00 


UNKNOWN    KENT 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 


A  PAINTER  IN  PALESTINE. 

A  DWELLER  IN  MESOPOTAMIA. 

THE  LAST  CRUSADE. 

ADVENTURES  WITH  A  SKETCH 
BOOK. 

A  CRUISE  ACROSS  EUROPE. 


CANTERBURY 


THE  ANGEL  TOWER 


UNKNOWN   KENT 

BY     DONALD     MAXWELL 

Being  a  series  of  ■  unmethodical   Explorations  of  the 
County  illustrated  in  line  and  colour  by  the  Author 


>             •          »      >  >                 >      »  ' 

>     »                  >                  >  >                     >  »  '    J 

.     >  >                 >  >                 •  >  ,       » 

>  )                 >  >  .           »  >      .    .    » 


»     »        »  .         > 

■»  »        J        J     >     1 


G.   P.   PUTNAM'S   SONS 

NEW   YORK 

MCMXX1I 


P\iolO 


»  •  •  •  i 

•  •  •  •  •> 

•  •  •  •  •  * 


•  •  •  •  •  • 


PRINTED   IN  GREAT   BRITAIN   BY 
WILLIAM    CLOWES    AND  SONS,    LIMITED,    LONDON    AND   BECCLES. 


TO  MY  COLLEAGUES  OF 
THE   GRAPHIC 


In  labours,  in  watchings,  in  fastings ; 

By  evil  report  and  good  report : 

As  unknown,  and  yet  well  known ; 

As  sorrowful,  yet  always  rejoicing ; 

As  poor,  yet  making  many  rich ; 

As  having  nothing,  and  yet  possessing  all  things. 


M126751 


1—  •'   .     — *;gjr&&3ez-^. 


A1>0OR.W/(Y  IN  TfcE.  VEAU3. 


PREFACE 


To  write  about  the  whole  of  Kent  and  to  give  even  a  tithe 
of  the  sketches  acquired  in  years  of  rambling  about  its  ways 
would  be  to  make  a  catalogue.  It  has  seemed  to  me  better, 
therefore,  to  leave  out  all  reference  to  places  when  there  is 
not  room  to  say  more  than  a  word  or  two  about  them,  how- 
ever interesting  they  may  be. 

The  reader,  in  looking  through  this  book  for  the  first 
time,  will  probably  experience  the  same  emotion  as  a 
certain  Quaker,  when  in  a  dream  he  reached  Heaven — 
surprise  at  not  finding  many  old  friends  whose  presence 
was  confidently  anticipated,  and  equal  astonishment  at 
the  inclusion  of  those  whom  he  did  not  in  the  least  expect 
to  meet.  But  for  all  this,  I  will  be  a  good  guide  and 
lead  him  into  places  not  easily  found,  and  show  them  to  him 
in  such  an  atmosphere  that  he  will  see  the  things  that  are 
hidden.  I  will  tell  him  that  the  loveliest  glades  of  the 
garden  of  England  are  composed  of  slag  heaps — slag  heaps  of 
the  days  of  Good  Queen  Bess,  but  slag  heaps  for  all  that ; 
and  I  will  dwell  on  this  fact  because  I  am  an  optimist  believ- 
ing that  beauty  is  not  only  a  joy  for  ever,  but  that  it  will 


viii  PREFACE 

ultimately  prevail.  I  will  take  him  to  despised  industrial 
regions  and  cause  him  to  see  the  glamour  and  mystery  therein 
of  old  Baghdad  and  the  Arabian  Nights. 

I  have  had  to  leave  out  whole  sketch-books  of  drawings. 
At  the  last  minute,  however,  I  have  included  a  doorway  of 
Mr.  Lewis  Hind's  Elizabethan  cottage,  Island  Farm,  near 
Biddenden,  because  it  expresses  so  well  the  spirit  of  these 
old  Wealden  half-timbered  houses,  and  will  stand  as  a  type 
for  many  others. 

My  thanks  are  due  to  the  Editor  of  the  Graphic  for  kind 
permission  to  include  in  this  book  both  notes  and  sketches 
which  have,  in  some  form,  been  published  in  that  paper ; 
also  acknowledgment  to  the  Editors  of  the  Yachting  Monthly 
and  Saturday  Review  respectively,  for  similar  courtesies. 

The  Beacon, 
Borstal, 

Rochester. 

September  21 ,  1921. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    The  Track  in  the  Wood i 

II.    The  Quest  of  the  Mills  of  Maidstone 13 

III.  The  Ways  of  the  Weald 33 

IV.  The  Riddle  of  Tenterden  Tower 45 

V.    Studies  in  Napoleonic  Landscape 59 

VI.    Thames-side  Kent 67 

VII.    The  Land  of  Cement 93 

VIII.    The  Land  of  Bridges 107 

IX.    The  Land  of  Streams 121 

X.    The  Lost  Road  of  Kent 131 

XI.    The  Amateur  Archaeologists 147 

XII.    The  Seven  Islands  of  Kent 163 

XIII.  Canterbury  and  the  Sea 181 

XIV.  Wind  and  Water 191 

XV.    The  Silver  Darent 199 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 


PLATES 

TO  FACE  PAGE 

Canterbury  :  the  Angel  Tower Frontispiece 

The  Medway  at  Borstal 6 

The  Dedication  of  the  Seven  Lamps  of  Borstal 8 

A  Woodland  Glade  near  Rochester 10 

The  Vanished  Mill  of  Loose 18 

Boughton  Quarries 26 

The  Furnace  Pond  of  Horsmonden 38 

An  Elizabethan  Iron  Foundry  in  the  Weald  40 

The  Marshes  from  Oxney  Island 50 

The  "Walrus"  at  Greenwich .       .       .82 

The  Giant  Jars  of  Greenhithe 88 

Cement  Works  at  Borstal 96 

The  Pillars  of  Wouldham 98 

The  Nearer  East:  a  fantasy  of  Bluebell  Hill 102 

The  Medway  near  Maidstone       .       .       .       .'  .       .       .       .110 

Old  Maidstone  from  the  River 114 

Hadlow  Tower  .       .       .      . 124 

The  Stair,  Tonbridge      .        . 126 

The  Straight  Mile,  Tonbridge 128 

The  Medway  at  Yalding .152 

A  Nocturne  of  Margate  Roads    .       .       . 168 

In  Gillingham  Reach      ....              178 

St.  Margaret's  Bay 186 

A  Dover  Foreshore • 188 

xi 


xii  LIST   OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

LINE   SKETCHES   AND   MAPS 

PAGE 

A  Doorway  in  the  Weald vi 

"Like  a  River  of  Grass  between  Thickly  Wooded  Shores"     .       .  2 

Heading:  "The  Track  in  the  Wood" 3 

Rochester  Castle  and  Bridge,  from  Borstal 4 

The  Wooded  Hills  above  Halling 5 

Map:    Vicinity  of  Borstal 7 

Bottle  Kilns 12 

Old  Water  Mill,  Boxley H 

A  Ragstone  Quarry,  Boughton J  5 

Beam  over  Doorway  in  Great  Culand  Farm,  Burham  .       .       .       .16 
Ancient  Man-power  Wheel  for  drawing  Water,  Burham  .       .       .17 

The  Pulp  Train 21 

"  Its  Architecture  was  Babylonian  or  Assyrian  " 23 

Woodland  Path,  Loose 24 

Old  Mill  at  Loose 25 

Disused  Water-mill,  Tovil 29 

In  the  Village  of  Loose 3° 

A  Water-wheel  at  Tovil 31 

Paper-mill  in  Loose  Valley 32 

A  Little  Shop  Window  in  Headcorn.       .       .       .     .  .       .       .       -34 

Heading:  "The  Ways  of  the  Weald" 35 

Boughton  Hill 36 

Goudhurst 37 

A  Glimpse  of  a  Garden  at  Yalding    .       . 39 

A  Quaint  Sky-line  in  the  Weald 41 

The  Medway  at  Yalding ....  43 

Oasthouses 44 

Appledore  Church 46 

Heading  :  "  The  Riddle  of  Tenterden  Tower  "      .       .       .       .       .47 

Isle  of  Oxney  and  Sea  Approaches  in  the  Middle  Ages    .       .       .  48 

Isle  of  Oxney  from  the  Marshes  at  Appledore 49 

Stone  in  the  Isle  of  Oxney •  51 

Tenterden  from  the  Isle  of  Oxney 52 

View  from  the  same  place  400  Years  ago 53 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS  xiii 

PAGE 

Half-timbered  House  in  Tenterden 55 

At  the  Woolpack  Inn,  Tenterden 57 

The  Royal  Military  Canal 58 

Map  of  Romney  Marsh 60 

Heading:   "  Studies  in  Napoleonic  Landscape" 61 

Martello  Towers  near  Hythe 62 

The  Royal  Military  Canal  from  the  High  Land  of  the  Isle  of 

Oxney 62 

Lympne  and  Romney  Marsh 63 

The  Hill  Country  near  Hythe 65 

Roman  Walls  near  Lympne 66 

Cliffe  Creek 68 

The  "  Worcester  n  at  Greenhithe 69 

"Ours  was  the  Marsh  Country  down  by  the  River"  .       .       .       .71 

A  Road  out  of  Cliffe 73 

Entrance  to  the  Tunnel  at  Higham 75 

A  Crater  in  Kent 77 

Frindsbury  Shore 79 

A  Bit  of  Cooling  Castle 81 

At  Greenhithe  .               83 

A  Little  Ship  from  Lilliput 85 

A  Powder  Hulk  near  Erith 86 

A  Nocturne  of  Northfleet 87 

Dartford 91 

Aspdin's  Kiln,  Northfleet 92 

Kilns,  Bluebell  Hill 94 

Heading:  "The  Land  of  Cement"      .       .       .       .       .       .       .       ,  95 

Map  :  "  Land  of  Cement  " 96 

The  "  Penguin  "  below  Bridge 97 

The  Horse-shoe  Bend  :  the  Medway  at  Burham 99 

Cement  Land  from  above  Burham 100 

Ruins  of  Cement  Works  near  New  Hythe 101 

A  Kentish  Venice:   New  Hythe  in  Flood 104 

Outward  Bound 106 

Aylesford 108 

Aylesford  Bridge 109 


xiv  LIST  OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

Map:  Old  Bridges  of  the  Medway     .       .       .       .       .       .       .       .in 

Allington  Castle 113 

East  Farleigh 115 

Teston  Bridge 117 

Bridge  and  Church,  Yalding 119 

On  the  Beult,  Yalding 120 

Map:    Medway  near  Tonbridge 122 

Heading:  "The  Land  of  Streams"     .  123 

Map:    Medway  Valley,  Yalding 127 

"The  Twelve  Apostles" 129 

Ye  Old  Chequers,  Tonbridge .    130 

Map:   The  Sea  Coast  and  the  "Weald  Coast"      .       .       .        .       .132 

Heading:  "The  Lost  Road  of  Kent" 133 

The  Castle,  Sutton  Valence 135 

Gables  at  Yalding 146 

Sutton  Valence 148 

Heading:  "The  Amateur  Archaeologists" 149 

The  Giants  of  Yalding  155 

By  Twyford  Bridge,  Yalding 158 

A  Riverside  Hop  Garden 159 

Rats  Castle,  near  Mere  worth 160 

"Fair  Rosamond's  Bower,**  Westenhanger 161 

westenh anger  castle 1 62 

Map  :  The  Seven  Islands  of  Kent 164 

Minster  in  Sheppey 165 

King's  Ferry  Bridge 167 

Alongside  "  Aciveon  " 169 

Sea  Reach,  Calm 170 

Sea  Reach,  Fresh .171 

This  is  not  meant  to  be  a  Comic  Picture.    It  simply  shows  what 

curious  things  people  will  do  for  Pleasure 172 

Painting  a  Cruiser's  Funnel '  .       .173 

The  "Penguin"  and  H.M.S.  "Magnificent" 173 

The  Tower  at  Grain .        .    174 

Reculvers  and  Margate  Hook 175 

The  Mussel  Manor,  Leysdown 177 


LIST  OF   ILLUSTRATIONS  xv 

PAGE 

Plates  for  Shipbuilding,  in  Chatham  Dockyard 178 

Old  Map  showing  Leysdown 179 

Old  Boats.    A  Dockyard  Scene 180 

Dover 182 

Map:  Canterbury  and  the  Roman  Ports 183 

Kingsdown 190 

Delce  Mill,  Rochester 192 

Heading:  "Wind  and  Water" 193 

The  Medway  from  Rochester  Station 195 

In  the  Rochester  River 198 

Eynesford  Bridge     .                       200 

HORTON    KlRBY      .                     .                     201 

Franks 203 

Shoreham  Mill 205 

A  Mill  on  the  Darent 206 


I 


THE  TRACK  IN  THE  WOOD 


«  '  €-• 


8- 


r7^^^^^^^!^ 


,  "t 


"  LIKE   A    RIVER   OF   GRASS    BETWEEN 
THICKLY   WOODED    SHORES"    (p.  IO). 


THE  TRACK  IN  THE  WOOD 

IT  came  to  me  one  day  as  I  gazed  upon  the  Medway  from 
the  heights  of  Borstal  that  I  had  explored  many  lands 
and  written  of  many  places  but  singularly  little  about  my 
own  county,  Kent.  And  this  was  neither  from  want  of  love 
for  it  nor  from  any  flagging  of  enthusiasm  on  the  subject  of 
its  highways  and  byways,  but  rather  because  of  its  very 
familiarity  and  the  ease  with  which  material  could  be  gathered 
together.  The  impulse  to  discover  something  is  largely 
fostered  by  the  inaccessibility  of  the  thing  to  be  discovered. 
Had  America  been  an  island  within  sight  of  Lisbon,  probably 
Columbus  would  never  have  fitted  out  an  expedition  to  explore 

B  2 


•  ft 

r      *  A     •     •  « 

t      r  ~    «   r    •    .     « 


«     c    e  •  e    « 


UNKNOWN   KENT 


■**»f^fc?fln*r 


ROCHESTER    CASTLE   AND    BRIDGE,    FROM    BORSTAL. 


it.  Eldorados  might  have  been  had  for  the  asking,  and  no 
one  worried  about  them. 

The  wonderfulness  of  Kent  was  stamped  upon  my  imagina- 
tion when  I  was  furthest  away  from  England.  It  was  in 
India  that  I  saw  potential  pictures  of  moonlight  in  the  land 
of  cement.  It  was  in  Persia  that  I  came  to  feel  more 
than  ever  the  Eastern  magic  of  the  chalklands  at  home, 
and  it  was  in  the  Garden  of  Eden  that  I  began  to  realize 
more  fully  the  richer  pictorial  possibilities  of  the  Garden  of 
England. 

So  I  vowed  a  vow.  And  the  vow  was  this.  That  I  should 
travel  through  Kent  with  log-book  and  sketch-book  as  an 
explorer  in  a  new  land,  taking  nothing  for  granted,  and 
working  my  way  along,  topographically,  by  my  wits.  Having 
made  my  resolve  it  was  not  long  before  I  started.  Brown, 
my  faithful  Achates  on  many  similar  trips,  said  he  would 


THE  TRACK   IN  THE  WOOD 


THE    WOODED    HILLS   ABOVE    HALLING. 


like  to  come  too,  so  he  joined  up,  full  of  enthusiasm.  We 
left  the  warmth  and  cheery  comfort  of  a  fire  for  the  bleak 
highway  on  a  bitterly  cold  day  at  about  three  of  the  clock. 

Brown  carried  numerous  books,  making  the  sum  total 
of  his  possessions  somewhat  heavy.  My  impedimenta  con- 
sisted of  a  small  haversack,  a  large  sketch-book,  and  a 
mysterious  tin  containing  a  medley  of  chalks  and  paint 
arranged  so  unsystematically  that  I  can  never  find  anything 
I  want.  My  children  refer  to  this  last  item  somewhat  con- 
temptuously as  the  muddle  box,  a  rather  good  description, 
I  think.  The  white  chalk  is  the  great  offender.  It  always 
rolls  about  and  coats  all  the  other  chalks  with  white,  so  that 
it  is  impossible  to  tell  their  real  colour.  It  also  renders 
indiarubber  peculiarly  ineffective  and  even  dangerous. 

Steering  a  more  or  less  westerly  course  we  marched  boldly 
down  the  village  street.    Unmindful  of  the  fact  that  we  were 


6  UNKNOWN   KENT 

bent  on  an  epoch-making  exploration  of  Kent,  Borstal  took  not 
the  slightest  notice  of  our  determined  look  and  heroic  bearing. 
It  was  bitterly  cold,  and  I  felt  that  I  should  need  a  great  deal 
of  determination  if  I  succeeded  in  getting  much  sketching 
done  before  sunset. 

Lector :  You  old  fraud !  Trying  to  make  dear,  simple- 
minded  old  ladies  imagine  that  you  had  a  terribly  rough  time. 
You  know  quite  well  I  saw  you  only  a  few  days  afterwards 
living  in  great  luxury  and  cribbing  sketches  made  on  the  spot 
from  a  series  of  picture  postcards. 

Pictor  :  Hush  !  Don't  go  and  give  the  whole  show  away. 
You  must  start  off  by  letting  everybody  have  a  glimpse  of 
the  artist  as  a  most  terrible  fellow  who  will  stick  at  nothing. 
Besides,  there  is  the  publisher.  At  present  he  does  not 
suspect  me.  If  he  once  got  hold  of  that  picture-postcard  idea 
he  might  publish  them,  and  then  where  should  I  be  ? 

What  shall  I  say  of  Borstal  ?  If  I  am  out  to  rediscover 
Kent  I  must  not  shirk  my  responsibilities  because  I  am  near 
home.  Well,  Borstal  is  frankly  hideous,  a  utilitarian  yellow 
brick  blot,  perched  on  the  hillside  with  a  glorious  view  of  the 
river  and  the  valley  of  the  Medway.  It  is  situated  in  a  position 
that  many  famous  towns  might  envy,  and  for  that  reason 
it  is  rather  a  tragedy  that  it  should  be  so  exceptionally  ugly. 
The  architecture  of  Borstal  might  be  described  as  belonging 
to  the  ironic  style.  Crowned  by  a  fort  and  dominated  by  the 
old  convict  prison — now  H.M.  Institution  for  the  reformation 
of  young  offenders — it  straggles  downhill  in  the  direction  of 
Rochester  to  become  a  single  row  of  houses  overlooking  the 


^8 


-  ■  ■!'■:::/■•.'-'•■ 


'  ■'^^^^^^^^^":. 


THE  MEDWAY  AT  BORSTAL 


•    •  •  »    • 


THE   TRACK   IN   THE   WOOD 


river,  roomy  and  comfort- 
able if  not  beautiful,  till 
Borstal  Road  reaches  Fort 
Clarence  in  the  chain  of 
the  old  moated  and  walled 
defences  of  Rochester  and 
Chatham.  I  could  wish 
that  some  imaginative  dis- 
trict council  would  make 
a  law  that  every  yellow 
brick  house  in  Borstal 
must  be  whitewashed.  It 
would  not  be  any  use  a 
few  householders  doing  it. 
The  scheme  should  be  a 
comprehensive  one.  Then 
I  should  have  hopes  of  my 
own  village  even  from  a 
pictorial  point  of  view. 
We  should  look  like  an  Italian  mountain  town,  and  artists 
from  far  and  near  would  come  to  sketch  us. 

When  we  came  to  the  church,  we  entered,  for  it  is  always 
open,  and  I  showed  Brown  the  seven  lamps.  He  had  not 
seen  them  before.     Here  is  the  tale. 

The  Story  of  the  Seven  Lamps  of  Borstal 

Once  upon  a  time  there  lived  in  the  City  of  Damascus 
an  old  brassworker  who  made  lamps.     And  he  was  a  cunning 


8  UNKNOWN   KENT 

workman,  a  Christian  and  a  Syrian,  and  the  workshop  wherein 
he  worked  was  in  the  Street  which  is  called  Straight.  And  he 
made  seven  lamps  to  hang  before  the  altar  of  God,  even  as 
the  lamps  of  fire  that  are  the  seven  spirits  of  God. 

Now  it  chanced  that  about  the  same  time  that  he  had 
finished  the  fashioning  of  these  lamps  a  painter  came  into  the 
City,  and  he  sought  out  the  Street  which  is  called  Straight, 
and  came  to  the  workshop  of  the  old  man.  And  he  spoke 
with  the  lampmaker  and  said,  Show  me,  I  pray,  lamps  of 
brass.  And  he  showed  him  the  seven  lamps  which  he  had 
made.  And  when  the  stranger  saw  them  he  was  moved 
with  great  admiration,  and  he  said,  I  will  buy  these  lamps, 
and  they  shall  hang  in  the  Church  of  St.  Matthew  which 
is  in  Borstal.  Now  the  old  brassworker  was  glad  when 
he  said  I  will  buy  the  lamps,  and  he  said,  I  will  fashion 
yet  more  of  the  cunning  work  which  is  in  these  lamps,  and 
they  shall  be  ready  to  take  into  the  ship  in  thirty  and 
one  days. 

Now  the  painter  returned  to  his  own  land,  and  before  the 
thirty  and  one  days  were  passed  there  was  a  great  war.  And 
the  lamps  came  not.  Then  he  said  to  himself,  Now  that 
the  Turks  have  become  our  enemies  the  lamps  that  were  in 
Damascus  shall  never  come  unto  Borstal. 

And  the  Turks  took  the  workshop  of  the  lampmaker,  and 
took  all  the  brass  and  made  the  lampmaker  and  his  men  work 
like  slaves,  and  they  made  instruments  of  war  for  the  Turks. 
But  ere  the  officer  of  the  Turks  had  entered,  the  old  man  had 
taken  the  lamps  and  buried  them  in  the  ground,  for  he  said, 


M 


»  o  , 


•     *  »      » 


THE  DEDICATION  OF  THE 
SEVEN  LAMPS  OF  BOKSTAL 


THE  TRACK   IN  THE  WOOD  9 

Lest  the  ungodly  find  them  and  the  Church  of  St.  Matthew 
at  Borstal  be  desolate. 

Now  the  painter  served  in  the  King's  ships,  and  the  war  raged 
sore,  and  he  forgot  the  lamps  that  were  in  Damascus.  But  after 
five  years,  when  the  war  was  spent  and  the  tumult  had  abated, 
it  chanced  that  he  was  sent  on  duty  to  Damascus.  And  then  he 
called  to  mind  the  lamps,  and  said,  I  will  go  unto  the  house  of  the 
lampmaker,  which  is  in  the  Street  called  Straight.  Peradventure 
he  is  dead  and  his  goods  scattered,  or  peradventure  he  liveth. 

And  when  he  had  come  thither  he  found  the  workshop, 
and  the  old  man  remembered  him  when  he  came  in.  And  he 
was  overjoyed,  and  took  him  into  the  deep  cellar  and  uncovered 
the  lamps.  And  the  painter  sought  to  pay  him  money  for 
preserving  the  lamps,  but  the  lampmaker  would  take  nothing, 
for  he  said,  Are  they  not  thy  lamps,  and  for  the  Church  of 
St.  Matthew  ?     And  so  the  lamps  came  to  Borstal. 

And  when  the  feast  of  St.  Paul  was  come,  there  was  great 
rejoicing  in  Borstal,  and  the  Bishop  came  to  dedicate  the 
seven  lamps.  Now  it  chanced  that  the  painter  before  the 
war  had  with  him  two  friends  at  Borstal,  but  both  were  killed, 
and  he  alone  was  left.  So  he  said,  Let  the  lamps  be  as  a 
memorial  to  them.  And  the  whole  company  of  priests  and 
singers  in  the  church  marched  in  procession  to  the  War  Shrine 
and  made  prayers  for  the  souls  of  the  Dead,  and  they  marched 
back  again  to  the  altar  with  loud  singing.  And  they  had 
vestments  of  scarlet  and  of  gold,  and  the  Priest  of  Borstal 
took  a  torch  and  kindled  it  at  the  lights  of  the  altar  and  gave 
it  to  the  Bishop.     And  the  Bishop  kindled  the  lamps,  and  they 


io  UNKNOWN   KENT 

burned  even  as  the  lamps  of  fire  before  the  throne  of  Heaven. 
And  the  seven  lamps  were  dedicated  to  the  Glory  of  God  and 
in  memory  of  Victor  Morgan  and  Luke  Taylor  who  fell  in  the 
great  war.     And  the  people  of  Borstal  remembered  that  day. 

After  leaving  the  church  we  took  the  path  by  the  school, 
past  the  Fort  and  the  rather  gloomy  precincts  of  the  old 
convict  prison,  now  "  H.M.  Institution  for  the  Reformation 
of  Young  Offenders,"  and  gained  the  high-road  that  runs 
from  Rochester  to  Maidstone,  past  Fort  Bridgewood  and  along 
the  top  of  the  down.  To  the  right  lies  the  wooded  valley  of 
Nashenden,  some  four  hundred  feet  below. 

The  weather  was  not  very  clear,  and  partly  owing  to  this 
circumstance  we  seemed  to  be  looking  down  on  an  amazing 
thing — a  glacier  cut  through  the  dark,  tree-covered  ridge 
that  overlooks  Burham.  I  have  sketched  the  effect  at  the 
head  of  this  chapter.  Brown  immediately  christened  it  the 
Mer  de  Grass,  and  proposed  an  ascent.  To  get  there  we  had 
to  go  down  into  the  valley  by  means  of  a  track,  appropriately 
called  Stoney  Lane,  past  a  little  stone  farm.  The  woodland 
walk  soon  opened  out  into  a  glade,  a  fruitful  place  for  wild 
strawberries,  as  many  Borstal  children  know,  and  seemed 
like  a  river  of  grass  between  thickly  wooded  shores. 

The  track  steepens  as  it  nears  the  crest  of  the  hill  and  the 
Robin  Hood  Inn.  A  line  of  gaunt  and  windblown  trees  make 
a  striking  sky-line.  Looking  back,  the  high  ground  of  the 
Rochester  road  appeared  in  golden  light,  the  woods  and  the 
green  track  by  which  we  had  come  in  shadow. 


I  >        i    J      J       >        J       (i 

•  »        >     o  •        »         J    » 

»   >  J  >       )  3 


1  o    •     o 


A  WOODLAND  GLADE  NEAR  ROCHESTER 


t    •    •    « 


THE  TRACK   IN  THE  WOOD  n 

In  some  weather  the  view  from  this  point  is  a  remarkable 
one.  In  this  light,  however,  it  looked  flat  and  uninteresting. 
I  have  seen  it  sometimes  on  a  November  afternoon,  when  a 
huge  red  sun  is  lighting  up  the  river  so  that  it  has  the  appear- 
ance of  a  fiery  serpent  lashing  itself  in  coils  across  the  plain 
between  blue-wooded  heights  dimmed  with  faint  layers  of 
smoke  and  mist.  The  serried  ranks  of  chimneys  and  multi- 
tudinous kilns  and  quays  create  an  intangible  world  that  some 
enchanter  might  have  produced  by  magic,  and  it  is  only  the 
reality  of  a  tug  and  a  train  of  barges,  or  the  plodding  worka- 
day aspect  of  a  stumpy  on  her  way  down  to  Rochester  that 
destroy  the  illusion. 

Some  people  always  run  down  smoke  and  chimneys,  but 
given  enough  smoke  and  enough  chimneys  the  most  fantastic 
and  wonderful  effects  can  be  seen.  To  the  painter,  indeed, 
it  does  not  really  matter  so  much  what  a  thing  is.  It  matters 
more  what  it  suggests.  In  the  sketch  of  some  giant  bottles, 
reproduced  as  the  frontispiece  of  this  book,  there  is  a  good  test 
of  this  theory.  Show  it  to  the  average  man  as  an  illustration 
to  the  Arabian  Nights  and  he  will  rather  like  it,  but  tell  him 
that  it  is  a  very  realistic  and  faithful  drawing  of  some  bottle 
kilns  not  very  far  from  Rochester,  and  he  will  immediately 
either  discount  its  romance  or  doubt  its  accuracy. 

The  comparisons  which  I  have  made  so  often  between  the 
cement  world  of  the  Medway  country  and  the  magic  East 
have  been  received  generally  with  roars  of  laughter.  The 
fact  remains,  however,  that  when  I  show  people  portfolios  of 
sketches  made  in  Persia,  India,  or  the  nearer  East  and  throw 


12 


UNKNOWN   KENT 


in  a  few  Medway  subjects  to  add  variety,  invariably  they 
chose  some  of  these  as  the  most  characteristic  example  of 
mystery  and  glamour. 

For  a  time  we  kept  along  the  fields  at  the  top  of  the  hill, 
enjoying  the  wide  prospect  of  winding  river  and  busy 
industry  far  below,  and  descended  by  a  rough  path  in  the 
direction  of  Snodland,  where  the  Medway  loops  itself  into 
horse-shoe  bends  to  disappear  from  sight  at  Aylesford. 


II 

THE  QUEST  OF  THE  MILLS  OF  MAIDSTONE 


■** 


OLD   WATER-MILL,   BOXLEY. 


A    RAGSTONE   QUARRY,    BOUGHTON. 


THE  QUEST  OF  THE  MILLS  OF  MAIDSTONE 

MAPS  are  popularly  supposed  to  assist  a  traveller  in 
finding  his  way  and  explaining  by  diagram  the  nature 
of  the  country  through  which  he  is  passing.  As  far  as 
Brown  and  I  were  concerned,  they  led  often  to  disappoint- 
ment and  invariably  to  wrong  conclusions.  At  all  times 
Brown  is  blessed  with  a  tremendous  imagination,  but  give 
him  a  map  and  he  will  fairly  let  himself  go  in  romantic 
speculation. 

I  must  say  there  is  a  good  deal  of  extenuation  for  Brown's 
romancing.     Even   an   ordnance   survey  map   can  be  very 


i6 


UNKNOWN   KENT 


*-~=~TfSr  p>--iWraT,ft^inTriwca%  ■nira  mtujyjTiMrprTa»)ra| |i«tv«ft»»ym»W«Mi JHURIIHHrmillgjunftffl; ////.v/-^" 


SIT     — ' 


BEAM  OVER  DOORWAY  IN  GREAT  CULAND  FARM,  BURHAM." 

misleading.  When  you  come  across  the  word  Castle,  not 
"  castle/'  you  have  a  right  to  expect  something  just  recogniz- 
able as  a  building.  In  the  case  of  towns,  big  ones  are  marked 
in  large  lettering,  and  little  ones  in  smaller  type,  corresponding 
with  their  diminishing  size.  Not  so,  however,  with  castles. 
Queenborough  Castle,  for  instance,  which  is  a  water-tank  on 
a  slight  bump  in  a  railway  station,  is  announced  in  the  same 
dignified  lettering  as  Leeds  Castle,  near  Maidstone,  one  of 
the  finest  examples  of  a  moated  mediaeval  building  in  England. 
I  think  in  the  case  of  an  obvious  fraud  like  Queenborough, 
the  map  should  be  lettered  ELTSAC  or  3TCISV3-  Then  we 
should  know  where  we  were.     Or,  better  still,  why  not  work 


THE  QUEST  OF  THE  MILLS  OF  MAIDSTONE    17 

out  a  system  of  symbolic  lettering  to  indicate  the  condition 
of  the  building,  something  like  this — 

Ancient  castle  in  fine  preservation  . . 
Restored,    but    with    some    ancient 

features 
Partly  in  ruins 

Doubtful  site 

Modern 

Modern,  built  for  war  profiteer 


Castle 

CastIe 
CAS±LE 

CCCCCASTLE 

CASTLE 

£CASTLE 


In  the  case  of  the  quest  of  the  Mills  of  Maidstone,  it  was  a 
map  that  was  our  undoing.  Coming  down  from  the  hill  to 
the  region  of  the  river,  we  sat  down  in  a  field  by  a  row  of 
bottle  kilns.  Brown  spread  out  a  map,  and  we  held  a  council 
to  determine  our  route. 
I  rather  wanted  to  push 
into  "  the  Pyrenees  "  (the 
wild  chalk-gorge  country 
by  North  Hailing,  across 
the  river),  but  Brown's 
eye  caught  the  oft-re- 
peated word  mill  tucked 
away  in  small  type  all 
round  Maidstone,  so  we 
decided  on  water-mills  as 
our  next  objective. 

The  first  one  on  the 

ANCIENT    MAN-POWER   WHEEL    FOR    DRAWING 

list    was    quite    near,  water,  burham. 

c 


18  UNKNOWN   KENT 

according  to  Brown,  who  found  ancient  water-wheel  marked 
as  at  Great  Culand  Farm  at  Burham.  It  seemed  an  im- 
possible place  for  a  mill,  as  the  farm  stands  on  the  slope 
of  the  hill.  However,  Brown  soon  proved  that  in  a  chalky 
country  it  was  probable  that  a  spring  would  burst  out  of  the 
hillside  just  at  this  point  with  sufficient  volume  to  drive  a 
turbine. 

The  nearer  we  approached  the  farm,  the  less  likely  became 
the  probability  of  a  mill,  but  we  were  convinced  that  we  should 
find  something,  as  in  the  case  of  Castle,  so  we  boldly  knocked 
at  the  door  of  the  farm  and  waited.  An  elderly  man  came 
out  to  answer  our  questions,  and  took  us  into  a  shed  built 
against  the  farmhouse. 

There,  sure  enough,  was  something  that  undoubtedly 
appeared  to  be  a  large  water-wheel.  On  closer  inspection, 
we  found  that  it  was  a  man-power  wheel  that  raises  water 
from  a  well.  By  getting  inside  the  wheel  and  walking  uphill, 
a  man  could  keep  it  turning  slowly  to  raise  a  barrel  of  water 
some  180  feet. 

I  drew  the  wheel  while  Brown  drew  the  water.  He  was 
pretty  well  blown  by  the  time  the  barrel  of  water  arrived,  and 
I  think  I  got  the  best  of  the  deal.  I  think,  moreover,  the 
experience  will  have  a  good  moral  effect  on  Brown,  who  says 
now  that  he  realizes  what  a  poor  sort  of  hobby  working  a 
treadmill  must  be.  I  have  sketched  the  beam  over  one  of 
the  doors  of  this  old  house,  which  is  built  partly  of  hewn 
chalk.  There  are  said  to  have  been  three  wheels  of  this  sort 
in  England.     One  has  just  been  demolished,  and  the  other, 


THE  VANISHED  MILL  OF  LOOSE 


•  •  • 


•  •• 

•  •  • 

•  •  • 


•  •  • 


THE  QUEST  OF  THE  MILLS  OF  MAIDSTONE    19 

worked  by  a  donkey,  is  at  Carisbrooke  Castle.  Thus  our  friend 
at  the  farm  believes  that  this  water-wheel  is  the  only  one  of 
its  kind,  i.e.  worked  entirely  by  man-power,  that  can  be  seen 
in  this  country. 

The  next  mill  on  our  programme  was  just  outside  Maid- 
stone, by  ''The  Running  Horse."  When  it  became  visible  on 
the  left  hand  as  the  road  dips  down  to  cross  the  brook,  we 
felt  that  this  was  more  the  style  of  thing  we  were  after.  How- 
ever, we  had  again  drawn  a  blank.  True,  there  had  once 
been  a  mill  at  this  spot,  but  the  mill-wheel  was  no  more,  and 
the  mill  house  had  been  fitted  up  as  a  tiny  church,  an  offshoot 
of  Boxley.  Nothing  daunted,  we  pushed  on  into  Maidstone, 
Brown  cheerful  and  buoyed  up  by  visions  of  multitudinous 
mills  on  the  stream  flowing  from  Loose.  We  knew  at  least 
of  paper-mills  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  the  making  of  paper 
I  have  found  is  often  associated  with  the  weird  and  the 
picturesque,  as  the  following  yarn  will  show. 


The  Story  of  the  City  of  Paper 

By  the  merest  chance  one  day,  I  found  myself  in  an 
amazing  place  by  the  waters  of  Sittingbourne,  not,  as  these 
sketches  would  seem  to  indicate,  by  the  waters  of  Babylon, 
and  became,  perforce,  a  student  of  paper  in  a  paper  world. 
Life  is  full  of  surprises.  I  have  roamed  the  streets  of  Baghdad 
and  found  squalor.  I  wait  for  a  train  at  Sittingbourne  and 
find  an  Arabian  Nights  entertainment. 

Ask  any  naval  man  what  he  did  during  the  Great  War. 


20  UNKNOWN   KENT 

Should  he  have  been  stationed  at  Harwich  or  Sheerness,  he 
will  tell  you  that  he  spent  most  of  his  time  waiting  on  the 
platform  at  Manningtree  or  Sittingbourne.  For  some  reason 
or  other  these  places  are  destined  to  be  the  abode  of  travellers, 
and  so  when  I  tell  you  how  I  discovered  a  wonderful  world 
within  a  stone's  throw  of  Sittingbourne  station,  you  need 
not  be  dull  should  you  at  any  time  find  yourself  stuck  there. 

It  chanced  that  my  train  ran  a  little  beyond  the  platform 
in  the  direction  of  Faversham.  The  time  was  evening. 
Strange  lights  and  shadows  glancing  across  the  vapour-laden 
brickfields  gave  a  curious  Eastern  glamour  to  the  landscape. 
Suddenly  a  shaft  of  gold  lit  up  the  distance,  and  in  a  moment 
of  time  I  beheld  a  city,  four-square,  with  ramparts,  gates,  and 
towers.  Its  architecture  was  Babylonian  or  Assyrian.  It 
stood  by  the  waters  of  Milton  Creek,  and,  because  of  the 
familiar  sailing  barges  at  its  quays,  I  could  see  that  it  was  no 
mirage.  Then  the  sunlight  failed.  The  city  vanished,  and 
the  train  steamed  back  into  the  station. 

I  had  to  change,  and  there  was  more  than  an  hour  to  wait. 
To  this  delay  I  owe  my  discovery.  Had  my  train  been  ready 
to  leave,  I  should  have  proceeded  on  my  journey,  become  a 
teetotaller,  and  said  nothing  more  about  the  Assyrian  vision. 

Turning  to  the  right,  outside  the  station,  I  took  a  road 
towards  the  waters  of  the  creek.  At  first  the  path  led  through 
some  brickfields  ;  then,  under  long  high  walls  that  hid  the 
landscape  in  the  direction  of  my  dream  city,  and  finally, 
through  a  sort  of  no-man's  land  of  rusted  machinery.  Huge 
piles  of  what  seemed  to  be  masonry,  some  of  it  grey  and  some 


THE   PULP   TRAIN. 


22  UNKNOWN   KENT 

of  it  white,  rose  up  on  all  sides.  Between  these  enormous 
masses  led  byways,  and  through  a  broader  gorge,  a  sort  of 
Grand  Canon  of  Colerado,  a  little  engine  puffed  busily,  hauling 
trucks  loaded  with  square  objects.  On  close  inspection  these 
proved  to  be  either  wood-pulp  or  masses  of  old  newspapers 
compressed  into  cubes.  Then  I  realized  that  all  this  seeming 
masonry  was  of  the  same  material,  wood-pulp  or  paper,  and 
the  glorious  vision  which  had  been  conjured  up  in  my 
imagination  of  a  hitherto  undiscovered  Nineveh  or  Babylon 
in  Kent,  was  gone. 

Barges  were  unloading  the  paper  or  pulp.  Trucks  were 
carrying  it  away.  Cranes  were  piling  it  into  pyramids,  and 
all  the  time,  the  busy  mills  were  turning  out  thousands  of 
miles  of  paper. 

Rejoice  and  be  glad,  ye  publishers  and  all  printers !  Of  the 
making  of  many  books  there  is  no  end. 

# 

We  boarded  a  tram  labelled  Loose,  and  descended  into 
the  valley  which  Brown  had  pronounced  to  be  a  valley  of 
mills.  The  main  road  crosses  the  stream  by  a  stone  bridge 
at  some  height,  and  from  this  advantageous  position  we  could 
see  both  up  and  down  the  valley.  Down-stream  we  were 
looking  upon  a  long  sheet  of  water  that  looked  like  a  mill- 
pond,  but  we  could  not  see  without  a  nearer  view  whether 
any  of  the  buildings  below  it  were  mills  or  not.  Up  the  valley 
on  the  other  side  we  looked  towards  what  appeared  to  be  mills, 
and  at  our  feet  a  skeleton  or  ghost  of  a  mill.  The  mill  had 
gone,  but  sluices,  walls,  and  stonework  foundations  showed 


THE  QUEST  OF  THE  MILLS  OF  MAIDSTONE    23 

clearly  where  it  had  been  (sketch  facing  page  18).    A  passer- 
by informed  us  that  it  had  once  been  a  paper-mill. 


■*  -\-i^^i5:T? 


"ITS    ARCHITECTURE   WAS    BABYLONIAN    OR   ASSYRIAN. 

"  And  now,"  said  Brown,  gazing  somewhat  reproachfully 
at  the  map  which  had  so  misled  him,  "  it  is  only  a  mill  on 
paper.     But  there  are  two  more  marked  higher  up." 

We    found    these.      One    sketched    (facing    page     18) 


24 


UNKNOWN   KENT 


WOODLAND    PATH,    LOOSE. 


more  or  less  a    ruin,  and 
the   other,   a  black  tarred 
structure,  picturesque  and 
complete    with    millpond, 
but  not  working.     Nothing 
daunted,  we  explored  the 
valley  towards  Boughton  by 
a  delightful  path  clinging  to 
the  steep  valley  side,  a  wild 
woodland  walk  that  might 
have  been  designed  for  a 
pilgrims,  way  on  the  stage, 
but  it  led  to  no  mills. 
The  quarries  lie  further  on,  a  bit  of  one  I  have  sketched  on 
page   15,    and   two   delightful   old   timbered  houses   hidden 
among  the  green  in  the  steep  dip  of  the  valley.     It  is  interesting 
to  remember  that  the  stone  from  these  hills  was  used  in  the 
building  of  Westminster  Abbey,  and,  by  Royal  Command,  it 
was  decreed  that  no  Kentish  stone  should  be  carted  to  London 
for  any  other  purpose.     The  stone  was  used  also,  in  the  days 
when  gunnery  was  still  in  its  infancy,  for  cannon  balls,  iron 
being  too  scarce  or  considered  too  difficult  to  work  when  any- 
thing heavy  and  hard  would  do  as  well. 

We  retraced  our  steps  to  Loose.  The  houses  with  little 
bridges  crossing  the  streams  to  their  doors  (sketched  29) 
call  to  mind  the  quaint  ways  of  Holland.  Further  down, 
where  the  stream  takes  a  bend  to  the  right,  lies  a  millpond, 
but  again  we  had  drawn  a  blank,  our  sixth  failure,  for  the 


THE  QUEST  OF  THE  MILLS  OF  MAIDSTONE    25 

buildings  below    it    are    merely    the    site    of    a   mill   now 
defunct. 

Loose  is   a  pleasant   place  of  old  mill-pools  and  green 
cottage  gardens  reflected  in  the  still  surface  of  the  water. 


OLD    MILL   AT    LOOSE. 


There  is  a  spring  at  the  upper  end  of  the  village  and  the 
stream  here  is  said  to  be  the  re-appearance  of  a  lost  stream 
from  higher  up  the  valley — hence  according  to  some  authorities 
the  derivation  of  Loose — the  water  looses  itself.  I  should 
have  thought  Found  would  have  been  more  appropriate,  but 
I  am  quite  an  amateur  at  these  place-name  problems. 


26  UNKNOWN   KENT 

We  pushed  on,  lured  by  the  prospect  of  a  mill,  which  is 
one  of  the  Seven  Hopes  of  the  sketcher. 

The  Seven  Hopes  of  the  Landscape  Painter 
A  mill  (windmill  or  water-     A  roof 

mill)  A  ridge  of  hills 

A  river  A  wood 

A  tower  A  bridge 

I  do  not  mean  that  hundreds  of  good  sketches  cannot  be 
found  without  these  things.  Yet  in  rambling  about  in  search 
of  material  I  have  always  found  the  anticipation  of  any  of  my 
Seven  Hopes  brightens  the  landscape  possibilities.  To  begin 
with  a  mill.  A  windmill,  apart  from  its  inherent  picturesque- 
ness,  is  bound  to  stand  in  a  place  worth  winning  for  its  com- 
manding position,  and  as  to  a  watermill,  why,  the  very  fact 
that  you  know  that  yonder  dip  between  the  hills  contains  a 
watermill  is  enough  to  cheer  you  with  all  sorts  of  anticipations. 

I  loved  the  brimming  wave  that  swam 

Thro'  quiet  meadows  round  the  mill, 
The  sleepy  pool  above  the  dam, 

The  pool  beneath  it  never  still, 
The  meal-sacks  on  the  whiten'd  floor, 

The  dark  round  of  the  dripping  wheel, 
The  very  air  about  the  door 

Made  misty  with  the  floating  meal.* 

The  second  hope,  a  river,  needs  no  advocacy.  How  point- 
less often  seems  a  valley  in  which  no  stream  is  visible.  The 
silver  glint  of  water  makes  interesting  many  a  view  that  would 

*  Tennyson  :   The  Miller's  Daughter. 


\^ 


BOUGHTON  QUARRIES 


•  a  •      c   . 


THE  QUEST  OF  THE  MILLS  OF  MAIDSTONE    27 

be  monotonous  without  it.  The  same  antidote  to  monotony 
is  a  tower.  It  enables  you  to  touch  uninteresting  matter  and 
transmute  it  into  the  purest  gold. 

Straight  mine  eye  hath  caught  new  pleasures. 
Whilst  the  landskip  round  it  measures  ; 

***** 
Towers  and  battlements  it  sees 
Bosomed  high  in  tufted  trees.* 

The  fourth  hope,  a  roof,  often  saves  the  situation.  The 
straight  lines  of  a  gable  among  a  writhing  mass  of  green 
foliage,  the  pleasant  russet  of  a  great  barn,  or,  since  we  are 
sketching  in  Kent,  the  quaint  shape  of  an  oasthouse. 

The  fifth  hope,  a  ridge  of  hills,  has  the  great  property  of 
welding  together  otherwise  disunited  elements.  Mean  little 
houses  and  straggling  things  can  become  significant  under  a 
steady  skyline.  The  swelling  curve  of  a  hill  will  bring  into 
unity  a  hundred  trivialities  so  that  they  become,  as  it  were, 
controlled  instruments  in  an  orchestra,  instead  of  isolated 
ones  playing  different  tunes  in  different  keys. 

The  sixth  hope,  a  wood,  needs  little  explanation.  The 
green  mystery  of  foliage,  the  unexpected  vistas  and  clearings, 
with  their  suggestion  of  infinity.  And  the  seventh  hope  is  a 
bridge,  with  its  rhythmical  repetition  of  arches.  The  spring- 
ing curves  of  a  big  span,  the  shadow  patterns  on  the  ground 
or  reflections  in  water  make  for  interest  and  focus  in  many 
a  pointless  piece  of  country. 

And  here,  now  we  are  talking  about  sketching,  I  must  tell 

*  Milton:  L' Allegro. 


28  UNKNOWN   KENT 

you  a  story  about  an  artist  friend  of  mine,  who  started  a 
summer  sketching  class.  It  is  a  sad  story,  but  now  that  much 
time  has  elapsed  even  my  friend,  who  was  the  victim  in  a 
dreadful  tragedy,  can  see  the  funny  side  of  it. 

Finding  a  most  picturesque  farm  with  a  tumble-down  barn, 
the  roof  of  which  in  its  decrepit  state  was  a  subject  of  great 
variety  of  colour,  he  agreed  to  rent  it  from  a  farmer.  The  old 
barn  with  its  roof  studies  in  orange  and  madder  and  green 
was  alone  worth  the  money.  Unfortunately,  the  farmer  had 
a  conscience  and  feeling  that  he  had  taken  rather  a  lot  of 
money  for  such  a  poor  place  determined  to  do  his  tenant 
well.  On  the  day  that  the  class  assembled  full  of  enthusiasm 
for  studying  old  barns  the  finishing  touches  were  being  put  to 
a  new  corrugated  iron  roof  and  every  weed  or  piece  of  moss 
in  the  place  ruthlessly  removed. 

My  friend  had  said  so  much  about  the  barn  being  just  the 
thing  for  his  sketching  class  that  the  good  farmer  imagined 
they  were  all  going  to  work  inside  it. 

The  moral  of  this  touching  tale  is  that  in  some  circum- 
stances you  should  never  speak  the  truth,  not  from  any  base 
motive,  but  because  most  people  cannot  understand  it.  Had 
my  friend  explained  in  detail  that  people  were  going  to  make 
serious  studies  and  sketches  of  this  barn  of  which  the  owner 
was  heartily  ashamed,  no  doubt  the  farmer  would  have  refused 
to  have  anything  to  do  with  such  a  scheme  of  systematic 
lunacy. 

It  was  towards  evening  that  our  efforts  were  rewarded  by 


THE  QUEST  OF  THE  MILLS  OF  MAIDSTONE    29 

the  sight  and  sound  of  what  did  undoubtedly  seem  to  be  a 
real,  live,  working  mill.     It  stood  across  the  narrow  valley, 


\   ,.:.-~v~, 


DISUSED    WATER-MILL,    TOVIL. 


as  sketched  at  the  end  of  this  chapter,  and  proved  to  be  a 
paper-mill.  Further  on  were  two  disused  mills,  one  at 
Bockington  and  one  at  Tovil.     I  have  sketched  this  last  one  on 


30 


UNKNOWN   KENT 


page  29.    Near  this  was  a  little  mill  with  wheel  merrily  working, 
as  shown  on  page  31,  and  we  came  also  to  another  paper-mill. 


IN   THE   VILLAGE    OF  LOOSE. 


After  seven  blanks  we  had  found  the  first  working  mill,  and 
so  our  quest  was  over. 


F^-J^ 


A    WATER-WHEEL   AT    TOVIL. 


32 


UNKNOWN   KENT 


Lector :  But  now  you  have  found  mills  at  Maidstone,  are 
you  not  going  to  tell  us  something  about  them  ? 

Victor :  No,  certainly  not.  I  am  fed  up  with  mills,  and 
this  is  the  story  of  the  quest  only,  so  I  can  end  the  chapter 
with  a  clear  conscience  and  go  to  bed. 


*-M)    'yy\ 


Ill 

THE  WAYS  OF  THE  WEALD 


A    LITTLE    SHOP   WINDOW   IN    HEADCORN. 


THE  WAYS  OF  THE  WEALD 

THE  Weald  of  Kent  is  the  region,  once  thickly  wooded 
and  an  almost  impenetrable  wild,  lying  between  the 
ragstone  ridge  south  of  Maidstone  and  a  line  drawn  from 
Ashurst  to  Dungeness,  excluding  the  marshes  within  six  or 
eight  miles  of  the  sea.  This  is  only  approximate,  the  exact 
limits  of  the  Weald  having  been  the  subject  of  numerous 
lawsuits  on  the  subject  of  tithe  and  the  felling  of  timber. 
It  has  been  contended  that  the  Pilgrims'  Way  on  the  chalk 
hills  of  the  North  Downs  is  the  northern  limit.  These  are 
known  as  the  White  Hills,  whereas  the  ragstone  ridge  are 
called  the  Red  Hills.     A  celebrated  case  was  fought  out, 

D  2 


36 


UNKNOWN    KENT 


BOUGHTON    HILL. 


dragging  on  for  a  period  of  ten  years,  on  the  question  of  wood 
tithe.  The  Weald  of  Kent  was  exempt  from  a  tithe  on  wood, 
and  the  crux  of  the  whole  case  was  whether  a  certain  wood 
near  Aylesford  was  within  the  boundaries  of  the  Weald  of 
Kent  or  not.  If  the  Red  Hills  formed  the  boundary  this 
wood  did  not  come  within  the  exempted  area,  and  the  Vicar 
of  Aylesford  was  right  in  claiming  tithe.  The  Vicar's  counsel, 
addressing  the  jury,  said — 

"  The  Chalk  Hills  will  enclose  within  the  Weald  the  towns 
of  Maidstone  and  Mailing.  Lord  Stanhope,  who  professes 
great  knowledge  on  the  subject,  says  that  the  Weald  means 
a  Wild,  and  my  learned  friend,  the  Solicitor-General,  who 
has  been  studying  the  Saxon  language  for  the  purpose  of  this 
cause,  tells  you  that  a  Weald  is  nothing  more  or  less  than  an 
immense  wilderness,  impervious  to  man  or  beast.  If  that  is 
so,  it  is  a  very  odd  and  extraordinary  thing  that  Maidstone, 


THE   WAYS   OF  THE   WEALD 


37 


which  is  the  capital  of  Kent,  should  have  been  situate  in  a 
place  impervious  to  the  approach  of  man  or  beast  !  " 


GOUDHURST. 


Since  this  famous  case  the  Red  Hills  have  been  regarded 
as  the  northernmost  limit  of  the  Weald. 

The  fact  that  nearly  all  buildings  in  this  forest  region 
must  have  been  of  wood  accounts  for  the  scarcity  of  archi- 
tectural traces  of  great  age  except  in  the  churches.     The  nature 


38  UNKNOWN   KENT 

of  the  country,  too,  has  been  changed  since  the  land  has  been 
cleared  and  brought  into  cultivation.  We  must  remember 
that  this  was  the  iron  country  of  the  Elizabethan  age. 

It  is  probable  that  one  day,  if  we  are  to  trust  the  analogies 
of  history,  artists  and  poets  will  be  rambling  among  the  slag 
heaps  of  Sheffield  or  the  waste  places  of  Nuneaton,  seeking 
inspiration.  They  will  delight  in  the  rich  verdure  of  steep 
declivities.  They  will  select  picturesque  "  bits M  suitable 
for  the  landscape  of  the  Royal  Academy  of  3021  among 
the  well-wooded  vales,  or  write  odes  to  nightingales  in  the 
solemn  stillness  of  the  forest  glades.  Perhaps  some  archae- 
ologist will  remind  them  that  these  rural  haunts  were  not 
designed  to  be  holiday  haunts,  and  the  tumbled  appearance 
of  the  primrose-covered  banks  was  the  result  of  man's  work 
and  not  Nature's ;  that  these  woodlands  were  once  regions 
of  roaring  industry,  of  furnace  glare  and  belching  smoke, 
of  fierce  labour  disputes,  of  strikes,  and  the  unceasing  struggle 
between  capital  and  labour. 

Time  was  when  the  very  heart  of  the  Garden  of  England, 
the  Weald  of  Kent,  was  (together  with  the  adjacent  Weald 
of  Sussex)  the  black  country  of  our  land.  The  dense  forests 
of  this  district  yielded  fuel  for  the  furnaces.  The  iron-stone 
could  be  had  for  the  asking  on  the  surface  (the  numerous 
pits,  now  generally  ponds,  abound  in  a  hundred  unexpected 
places  still),  and  charcoal  was  easily  made.  Thus  the  iron- 
masters flourished.  It  was  coal,  elsewhere,  that  was  the 
death  of  the  charcoal  process. 

The  Romans  worked  iron  in  the  great  forest  of  Anderida, 


THE  FURNACE  POND  OF  HORSMONDEN 


c  •  • 

»  • 


«  • 
e  « 
i    <.    i 


•  ••  ; 

c    c    t 

•  •  •     ■ 


THE  WAYS  OF  THE  WEALD 


39 


H 


A    GLIMPSE    OF   A    GARDEN    AT    YALDING. 


which  was  their  name  for  the  Weald.  Of  Saxon  ironworks 
we  find  no  direct  mention  ;  but  there  is  a  good  deal  of  indirect 
evidence  that  iron  was  produced  here.  In  the  Middle  Ages 
we  find  various  references  to  furnaces  at  work. 

Agitation  of  various  kinds  was  growing  against  the  furnace 
owners.  "  In  a  few  years,"  wrote  Christopher  Baker,  u  there 
will  not  be  sufficient  timber  to  build  ships  for  Her  Majesty's 
service/'  And  Archbishop  Parker  writes  in  alarm  to  Elizabeth 
that  Sir  Richard  Sackville  was  about  to  build  more  ironworks 
in  Westwell,  Kent,  and  he  refers  to  the  advance  of  the  industry 


40  UNKNOWN   KENT 

as  a  a  plague  which  if  it  shall  come  into  the  country,  I  fear  it 
will  breed  much  grudge  and  desolation/ '  At  this  time  there 
were  "  ten  owners,  six  forges,  and  eight  furnaces  in  the  Weald 
of  Kent." 

There  is  a  note  somewhat  of  modern  industrialism  in 
Camden's  account  of  the  Weald. 

"It  is  full  of  iron  mines/'  he  writes,  "  for  the  casting  of 
which  there  are  furnaces  up  and  down  the  country,  and 
abundance  of  wood  is  yearly  spent ;  many  streams  are  drawn 
into  one  channel,  and  a  great  deal  of  meadow  ground  is  turned 
into  ponds  and  pools  for  the  driving  of  mills  by  the  flashes 
which,  beating  with  hammers  upon  the  iron,  fill  the  neighbour- 
hood round  about,  night  and  day,  with  continued  noise. 
The  proprietors  of  the  mines,  by  casting  of  cannon  and  other 
things,  make  them  turn  to  good  account.  But  whether 
the  nation  is  in  any  way  advantaged  by  them,  is  a  doubt 
which  the  next  age  will  be  better  able  to  resolve/' 

Facing  this  page  I  have  tried  to  reconstruct  an  old-time  iron- 
works with  its  water-power  for  the  bellows  and  crude 
machinery.  It  stands  below  a  hammer  pond  in  a  clearing, 
and  in  my  sketch,  which  was  arrived  at  after  some  thought, 
I  think  you  will  find  some  sort  of  idea  of  the  black  country  of 
the  Elizabethan  era. 

In  hidden-away  places,  often  among  thick  trees,  can  be 
found  the  old  hammer  ponds  or  furnace  ponds  that  supplied 
the  water-power  for  the  crude  machinery  of  those  days,  in 
the  infancy  of  iron.  The  largest  of  these,  and  one  of  the  most 
picturesquely  situated,  is  the  furnace  pond  at  Horsmonden. 


MHMMMMMH 


i        >         »    » 


AN   ELIZABETHAN  IRON  FOUNDRY  IN  THE  WEALD 


•    •     *    ct     t 


*  t    <        c    c 


o    c  •  «.     « 


THE  WAYS  OF  THE  WEALD 


4i 


Facing  page  38  I  have  sketched  the  site  of  the  long- vanished 
iron-mills  below  the  high-banked  lake.  A  tumbling  fall  with 
pools  and  brick-built  basins  makes  a  pleasant  noise  of  waters 
in  the  little  wood.     In  the  dim  light  I  can  almost  see  a  ghostly 


A    QUAINT    SKY-LINE    IN    THE    WEALD. 


mill  where  the  shades  of  the  old  ironmasters  of  Kent  still 
watch  their  men  fashioning  ordnance  for  the  defence  of  the 
realm  against  the  King  of  Spain. 

This  reminds  me,  too,  that  there  were  profiteers  in  those 
days.     Cannon  was  sold  to  foreign  ships,  and  it  is  said  that 


42  UNKNOWN   KENT 

some  of  those  used  against  us  by  the  Great  Armada  were 
cast  in  Kent. 

The  iron  trade  of  the  Weald  reached  its  most  prosperous 
days  at  the  close  of  Elizabeth's  reign.  The  gradual  disappear- 
ance of  the  forests  that  had  been  looked  upon  as  an  almost 
inexhaustible  supply,  made  for  high  price  in  charcoal,  and  the 
Wealden  ironmasters  closed  down  one  after  the  other.  In 
1740  there  were  only  four  furnaces  in  Kent.  The  last  output 
of  Kentish  iron  was  at  Lamberhurst,  where  the  old  railings 
of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral  were  cast.  These  were  removed  in 
1870  and  sent  to  Canada.  The  ship  which  carried  them 
foundered,  but  a  few  that  were  recovered  at  great  expense 
and  trouble  are  to  be  seen  in  Toronto. 

Another  industry  that  made  the  Weald  famous  in  the 
Middle  Ages  was  the  making  of  broadcloth.  Cranbrook  and 
its  surrounding  townships  had  become  places  of  considerable 
industrial  importance. 

The  necessity  of  large  areas  of  pasture  for  the  feeding  of 
sheep  led  to  the  cutting  down  of  forests  as  much  as  the  necessity 
for  fuel  for  the  furnaces.  It  was  chiefly  in  the  densely  wooded 
region  that  divided  Sussex  from  Kent  that  the  wholesale 
clearing  of  woodlands  was  made  by  the  ironmasters.  Yet, 
compared  to  the  ordered  state  of  things  now,  the  Weald 
must  have  been  in  a  large  measure  an  impenetrable  wild, 
through  which  certain  tracks — they  could  hardly  be  called 
roads — had  been  made. 

Pack-horses  in  large  numbers,  roped  together  like  caravans 
of  camels  in  the  East,  were  the  main  users  of  the  roads  for 


THE  WAYS   OF   THE  WEALD 


43 


commerce,  and  oxen  for  heavy  goods.  The  frequency  of  the 
Woolpack  as  the  name  of  an  Inn  still  speaks  of  those  days. 
Sometimes  a  paved  way  can  be  found,  as  at  Biddenden,  a 
path  some  two  feet  wide  of  flagstones  irregularly  set.     Some- 


THE   MEDWAY   AT    YALDING. 


times  a  sunken  track,  a  veritable  ghost  of  a  road,  may  be 
traced  still,  though  abandoned  and  overgrown,  in  the  depths 
of  a  wood  or  wandering  up  hill  and  down  dale  without  reference 
to  the  roads  of  to-day. 

We  get  glimpses  of  the  appalling  state  of  things  in  the 


44 


UNKNOWN   KENT 


winter  in  various  chronicles  :    horses  up  to  their  girths  and 
coaches  drawn  into  comparative  safety  by  six  yoke  of  oxen  ! 

I  have  seen  in  Hungary  and  in  some  of  the  thickly  wooded 
valleys  of  the  Lebanon  in  Syria,  almost  exactly  the  sort  of 
thing  the  Weald  of  Kent  must  have  been  like  in  those  days — 
a  tangled  mass  of  featureless  forest  growth  through  which 
paths  have  been  cleared  for  pack-horses,  and,  in  the  latter 
case,  mules  and  camels. 


'^SX^r^S^^^^^^ 


IV 
THE  RIDDLE  OF  TENTERDEN  TOWER 


APPLEDORE    CHURCH. 


• 


' "  jT 


• 

■  ■.-' 


.y^^** 


THE  RIDDLE  OF  TENTERDEN  TOWER 

GREAT  play  has  been  made  in  the  days  of  our  forefathers 
in  ridiculing  the  superstitious  belief  of  many  that  a 
famous  steeple  in  the  Weald  of  Kent  caused  the  Haven  of 
Sandwich  to  silt  up.  Yet  so  deep-rooted  was  the  belief 
among  the  people  of  Sandwich  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.  of 
Tenterden  Tower  bringing  evil  days  upon  them  that  inquiry 
was  made  in  all  seriousness  by  no  less  a  person  than  Sir 
Thomas  More  to  try  and  get  at  the  substance  and  origin  of 
the   fable.     A   commission   was   sitting   to   collect   evidence 


48 


UNKNOWN   KENT 


as  to  the  causes  of  the  decay  of  Sandwich  port.  In  his 
Dialogues  More  recounts  how  after  many  witnesses  a  very 
old  man  arose  and  said — 

"  Ye  maysters,  say  every  man  what  he  wyll,  cha  marked 
this  matter  as  well  as  sum  other,  and  I  wote  how  it  waxed 
naughte  well  ynoughe ;  for  I  knewe  good,  I  have  marked, 
so  chave  when  it  began  to  wax  wors." 

"  And  what  hath  hurt  it,  good  father  ?  "  quod  those 
gentlemen. 

"  By  my  fayth,  Maysters/'  quod  he,  "  yonder  same 
Tenterden  Stepell,  and  nothing  ellys,  that,  by  the  Masse, 
sholde  'twere  a  fayre  fyshpole." 

"  Why  hath  the  stepell  hurt  the  haven,  good  father  ?  " 
quod  they. 

"  Nay,  by'r  Lady,  Maysters,"  quod  he,  "yeh  cannot  tele 
you  well  why,  but  chote  well  yt  hath  ;  for  I  knew  that  a  good 
haven  tyll  the  stepell  was  bylded,  and  by  the  Mary  masse, 

cha    marked    yt     never 
throve  synnys." 

Tenterden  lies  in  the 
Weald  five  leagues  from 
the  sea,  and  it  is  difficult 
indeed  to  find  any  con- 
nection between  the  mis- 
fortunes of  the  port  of 
Sandwich  and  this  stately 
tower. 

Explanations,      how- 


ISLE   OF   OXNEY  AND   SEA   APPROACHES   IN 
THE   MIDDLE   AGES. 


THE   RIDDLE  OF  TENTERDEN   TOWER 


49 


ISLE   OF   OXNEY   FROM    THE   MARSHES    AT   APPLEDORE. 


ever,  of  the  inner  meaning  of  the  fable  have  not  been 
wanting.  Like  the  story  of  the  geese  that  saved  the 
Capitol,  invented  by  some  ingenious  person  to  justify  a 
ritual  the  origin  of  which  had  been  lost,  so  fertile  minds 
have  devised  all  sorts  of  feasible  readings  of  the  riddle  of 
Tenterden. 

One  story  is  that  this  tower,  built  in  1461,  replaced  an 
earlier  structure  fashioned  by  Earl  Godwin,  who  became  so 
enthusiastic  about  its  construction  that  he  fetched  stones 
for  it  that  should  have  maintained  his  sea  wall,  from  Thanet, 
consequently  losing  part  of  his  estate,  which  became  the 
Goodwin  Sands.  A  most  improbable  thing,  to  begin  with, 
bringing  stones  from  Thanet,  which  is  a  chalk  country,  to 
the  Weald,  which  abounds  in  stone.  Another  yarn,  which 
bears  some  family  likeness  to  the  above,  is  that  a  sum  of 
money  in  the  hands  of  the  Bishops  of  Rochester  for  the  pur- 
pose of  maintaining  the  sea  walls  in  Thanet  was  used  for 
the  building  of  Tenterden  Tower  to  the  detriment  of  the  East 
Kent  marshes,  which  became  flooded. 

Both  these  explanations  are  rendered  particularly  ludicrous 
because  they  explain  away  the  wrong  thing.    The  old  fable 


50  UNKNOWN  KENT 

was  that  Tenterden  steeple  caused  the  silting  up  of  Sandwich 
Haven,  as  the  old  doggerel  tells  us — 

Of  many  people  it  hath  been  sayed 

That  Tenterden  steeple  Sandwich  haven  hath  decayed, 

and  was  not  the  cause  of  the  Goodwin  Sands.  The  Goodwin 
Sands  were  dragged  in  by  Hugh  Latimer  when  using  this 
old  saying  as  an  illustration.  He  was  preaching  before 
Edward  VI.,  and  he  slightly  misquoted  More  either  accidentally 
or  intentionally  to  heighten  his  effect. 

Now  it  happened  not  long  ago,  when  I  was  bent  on  ex- 
ploring the  Isle  of  Oxney,  I  stumbled,  almost  by  accident, 
against  evidence  which  revealed  to  me  some  possible  con- 
nection between  Tenterden  and  Sandwich.  It  has  often  been 
my  good  fortune  when  rambling  with  my  sketch-book  to  make 
notes  of  places  and  things  which  have  had  in  them  more 
than  I  knew.  In  this  case  I  scribbled  a  sketch  which  re- 
vealed to  me  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  the  solution  of  the 
age-long  riddle  of  Tenterden  Tower.  I  will  tell  you  how  it 
happened. 

Appledore  is  just  the  quaint,  old-world,  old-fashioned 
place  that  its  name  suggests,  on  the  fringe  of  the  great  expanse 
of  the  Romney  Marsh,  by  the  tree-bordered  canal  that  leads 
from  Hythe  to  the  waters  of  the  Rother  by  old  Rye.  The 
village  is  about  a  mile  from  the  station,  where  I  landed  from 
Ashford  at  8.30  in  the  morning.  Across  the  level  land  and 
beyond  the  green  procession  of  foliage  along  the  Royal 
Military  Canal,  a  relic  of  the  invasion  menace  of  the  Napoleonic 


*  e  c  «  c 


•  «*  c  c 


THE   RIDDLE   OF  TEXTERDEN   TOWER         51 


STONE   IN    THE   ISLE    OF   OXNEV 


days,  rose  the  headland  of  Stone  cliff,  the  eastern  end  of  the 
Isle  of  Oxney.  I  remembered  as  I  marched  along  that  a  few 
centuries  previously  a  traveller  in  this  spot  would  have  been 
upon  the  sea  nearing  land  by  Appledore  and  Ham  Street. 
On  his  port  beam  would  be  Rye.  The  sea  would  divide  at 
Oxney,  which  would  have  stood  very  much  like  Warden 
Point  in  Sheppey,  one  estuary  running  up  the  Rother  valley 
and  the  other  encircling  the  island  by  way  of  Small  Hythe, 
joining  the  main  waters  again  below  Rolvenden.  The  little 
sketch-map  here  reproduced  will  give  a  rough  idea  of  the 
coastline — the  waters  by  Hayling  Island  to-day  being  almost 
an  exact  parallel  to  these  estuaries  and  creeks  as  they  were 
in  the  Middle  Ages. 

I  gained  the  island  and  climbed  the  steep  ascent,  some 
two  hundred  feet,  at  Stone,  and  stood  overlooking  the  great 
flat  plain.     I  have  sketched  it  here,  not  as  it  was  on  this 


52 


UNKNOWN   KENT 


occasion,  but  as  I  found  it  later  when  evening  fell  and  the 
old-time  sea,  now  marshland,  intersected  with  a  gleaming 
network  of  ditches,  stretched  its  gloomy  length  from  Rye 
to  Lympne.  The  dark  trees  of  the  canal  led  the  eye  to  the 
headland  by  Play  den,  where  the  Rother  glittered  in  light, 


T 


% 


TENTERDEN   FROM   THE   ISLE   OF   OXNEY. 


and  away  to  the  south  a  misty  brightness  seemed  to  show 
the  sea. 

Walking  along  the  crown  of  the  hill  I  came  first  to  a  long 
cleft  in  the  ground  running  east  and  west,  not  unlike  an 
irregular  railway  cutting  in  parts,  the  result,  I  imagine,  of 
a  landslide  where  the  descent  is  very  steep  hard  by.  A  little 
further  on  I  was  surprised  to  find  a  pond.  It  was  on  the 
very  highest  part  of  the  crest.     From  near  this  place  I  could 


THE   RIDDLE   OF  TENTERDEN  TOWER         53 

see  the  great  stretch  of  marshland  mile  upon  mile  in  the 
direction  of  Lympne,  the  tree-bordered  canal  creeping  like  a 
great  green  caterpillar  across  the  level  meadows  and  the 
tower  of  Stone  Church  half  hidden  by  trees  and  the  falling  land. 
Then  as  I  walked  towards  Wittersham  I  came  upon  a  feature 


VIEW   FROM   THE   SAME   PLACE   4OO    YEARS   AGO. 


which  I  found  an  amazing  thing,  but  which  the  inhabitants 
did  not  seem  to  think  worthy  of  notice,  a  chain  of  ponds  like 
the  one  I  had  seen  at  the  summit  of  the  rising  ridge.  I  counted 
no  less  than  nineteen  in  the  three  miles  between  Stone  and 
Wittersham.  Some  were  open  pools,  some  rush-bordered 
marshes,  some  little  lakes  in  the  woodlands  with  banks 
clustered  thickly  with  bluebells,  violets,  primroses. 

Such  a  thing  is  familiarity  that  I  could  not  get  up  any 


54  UNKNOWN   KENT 

local  interest  among  the  natives  concerning  their  strange 
position.  Several  men  I  questioned  seemed  to  think  that 
the  summit  of  hills  was  the  proper  place  for  ponds,  not 
hollows.  I  suppose  some  tilted  stratum  of  rock  forces  water 
to  this  high  position,  and  the  clay  surface  does  not  readily 
allow  it  to  soak  away.  Perhaps  some  geological  reader 
will  enlighten  me. 

Near  one  of  these  pools,  where  the  land  begins  to  fall  away 
to  the  marsh  some  two  hundred  feet  below,  I  could  see 
the  Tower  of  Tenterden  crowning  a  wooded  hill.  To  the 
right  was  a  tongue  of  level  green  running  up  between  hilly 
banks  on  the  way  to  Small  Hythe.  I  have  sketched  the  scene 
on  page  52.  Now  the  name  Small  Hythe  is  a  reminder 
that  this  place  once  stood  upon  a  branch  of  the  Rother  estuary, 
and  four  hundred  years  or  so  ago  was  a  shipbuilding  place 
for  Hythe  further  down  and  for  Rye  across  the  water. 
The  place  where  the  road  crosses  a  ditch  is  still  called  the 
Ferry. 

Burnt  down  in  1514,  the  busy  quays  and  warehouses  of 
Small  Hythe  were  never  rebuilt,  and  the  place  possesses  now 
only  a  few  small  houses,  one,  a  rambling  timbered  structure 
belonging  to  Miss  Ellen  Terry,  speaks  eloquently  of  the  glory 
that  has  departed.  You  can  see  on  the  sketch-map  how  this 
place  is  situated  with  regard  to  Tenterden.  It  was  the  port 
and  harbour  of  the  town,  and  the  creek  that  ran  up  to  within 
quite  a  short  distance  of  Tenterden  was  a  place  of  shipyards 
and  docks. 

I  thought  as  I  sketched  in  the  level  meadows  that  I  must 


**<u 


HALF-TIMBERED    HOUSE 
IN    TENTERDEN. 


56  UNKNOWN  KENT 

succeed  in  making  them  look  flat  in  contrast  to  the  rolling 
country  enclosing  them,  as  one  day  this  was  not  grass  but 
water,  an  arm  of  the  sea  bearing  ships  to  fetch  wool  and  iron 
from  the  Weald.  Fancy  even  led  me  to  dream  a  dream  and 
sketch  the  place  again,  not  as  it  was  now,  but  as  it  would  have 
been  when  Sandwich  Haven  was  beginning  to  silt  up  (page  53). 
What  a  fine  lead  Tenterden  Tower  with  its  beacon  flare  at 
night!  What  an  easy  harbour  compared  to  difficult  Sand- 
wich, and  with  cargoes,  too,  richer  than  that  ancient  port  could 
provide ! 

Tenterden  had  grown  up  rapidly  owing  chiefly  to  the  wool 
trade.  Refugees  from  Flanders  had  set  up  looms  and  the 
broadcloth  of  Kent  had  world-wide  fame.  The  amount  of 
smuggling  in  wool  was  enormous,  and  huge  profits  were  made 
by  shipowners  trading  with  the  Continent.  In  spite  of 
vigilance  and  Acts  of  Parliament  to  the  effect  that  wool  must 
not  be  exported  without  special  licence  this  illicit  trade — free 
trade  as  it  was  then  called — grew  and  grew.  A  ship  with  a 
few  kegs  of  brandy  and  a  few  bales  of  silk  snugly  landed 
could  always  double  her  profits  by  returning  with  a  few  bales 
of  wool. 

So  here  is,  perhaps,  light  on  the  riddle  of  long  ago  :  Sand- 
wich becoming  more  and  more  difficult :  the  Weald,  with  its 
wool  and  splendid  prospect  of  profiteering,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  undoubted  blessings  to  the  shipowner  of  "  free  trade," 
smuggling:  a  beacon  tower,  seen  from  far,  and  a  safe  road. 
There  is  a  north-easter  blowing,  and  the  light  is  failing.  Can 
you  not  hear  the  master  exclaim — 


*X«te.>|A«s«pi 


AT  THE  WOOLPACK   INN,   TENTERDEN, 


58 


UNKNOWN   KENT 


"By   the   Masse,   let   us   make   Tenterden   Stepell   and 
nothyng  ellys  ?  " 

And    so  the    Haven   of    Sandwich  went  from    bad    to 


worse. 


-^ 


3$-*V 


THE   ROYAL    MILITARY   CANAL. 


V 
STUDIES  IN  NAPOLEONIC  LANDSCAPE 


{%  (\k>''As* 


^,LYMPN£ 


ll\\\v 

HYTHC 


"PU(VCt6:N£35 


-A^ 


STUDIES  IN  NAPOLEONIC  LANDSCAPE 

NAPOLEON  left  his  mark  upon  Europe,  not  only  as  an 
immediate  consequence  of  his  military  genius,  but 
also  indirectly  by  the  repercussion  of  his  activities.  Regions 
where  he  never  penetrated  were  braced  up,  poetry,  especially 
of  the  patriotic  kind,  was  kindled  into  flame,  and  even  painting 
felt  the  stirring  of  the  nation  and  took  on  a  new  lease  of 
life.  The  very  landscape  of  our  coast  is  in  parts  still 
eloquent  of  those  days  of  expected  invasion,  when  nursemaids 
quieted  refractory  children  with  threats  of  Boney  and  when 
the  old  roads  of  the  Romans  from  inland  to  the  sea  resounded 
with  the  clatter  of  horsemen  and  the  tramp  of  the  men  of  Kent 
Stand  upon  the  high  land  overlooking  the  vast  track  of 
Romney  Marsh,  and  you  will  observe,  as  your  eye  travels 


62 


UNKNOWN  KENT 


MARTELLO   TOWERS    NEAR    HYTHE. 


over  mile  after  mile  of 
the  green  plain  bordered 
by  the  sea,  two  curious 
features.  One  is  an  in- 
terminable procession  of 
thick  trees,  making  a 
monster  caterpillar,  from 
Hythe  by  Appledore  to 
Rye,  in  long  straight 
lengths  with  an  occa- 
sional kink  as  if  the 
creature  was  creeping 
with  difficulty  across  the  land  dragging  his  huge  length  along 
toward  the  Rother.  From  the  headland  at  Stone  in  Oxney, 
which  was  once  an  island  like  Thanet,  it  is  particularly 
striking. 

The  other  feature  is 
the  strange  appearance 
of  the  coast-line,  which 
is  studded  with  innu- 
merable little  turrets. 
These  explain  themselves 
after  a  moment's  con- 
sideration. It  is  clear 
that  they  are  some  sort 
of  defences  to  command 
the    beach.      They    are, 

J  THE  ROYAL  MILITARY  CANAL  FROM  THE 

in      fact,     the      famous         high  land  of  the  isle  of  oxney. 


STUDIES  IN   NAPOLEONIC  LANDSCAPE 


63 


LYMPNB  AND  ROMNEY  MARSH. 


Martello  towers,  part  of  Pitt's  plan  of  countering  a  landing 
in  this  region. 

The  first  mystery,  the  caterpillar,  is  the  Royal  Military 
Canal,  now  thickly  overgrown  with  stately  trees  that  make 
it  a  conspicuous  object,  as  it  stretches  across  the  marshes. 
This  waterway,  flanked  by  the  Royal  Military  Road,  joined 
Hythe  with  Rye,  making  Romney  Marsh  an  island,  and  the 
second  line  of  defence,  should  Napoleon  succeed  in  flinging 
his  army  on  the  beach  and  silencing  the  coast  batteries.  It 
was  also  useful  for  transport  of  guns  and  munitions.  Every 
few  hundred  yards  there  is  a  kink  and  a  blockhouse  command- 
ing the  reach. 

It  is  necessary  to  remember  that  Dungeness  is  the  nearest 
point  to  France,  and  Napoleon  with  the  Grande  Armee,  and 
multitudinous  gunboats   and   transports,  was   encamped   at 


64  UNKNOWN  KENT 

Boulogne  before  this  scheme  of  repelling  an  invasion  had  been 
completed.  In  the  Kentish  Gazette  of  Sept.  II,  1804,  the 
following  paragraph  appeared  : — 

"  On  Thursday  last  Mr.  Pitt,  accompanied  by  Generals 
Twiss  and  Moore,  met  the  Lords  and  Bailiffs  of  the  Level  of 
Romney  Marsh,  at  Newhall  near  Dymchurch,  to  consider 
of  the  best  mode  of  inundating  the  Marsh  in  case  of  invasion, 
when  it  was  determined  that,  on  the  appearance  of  the 
enemy  on  the  coast,  the  sluices  should  be  opened  to  admit 
the  sea  so  as  to  fill  the  dykes,  which  might  be  accomplished 
in  one  tide,  and  in  case  of  actual  invasion  remain  open  another 
tide,  which  would  be  sufficient  to  inundate  the  whole  level/' 

This  scheme  of  defence,  the  forts,  the  canal,  and  the  flooding 
of  the  marshes,  although  quite  sound  for  the  military  condi- 
tions of  those  days,  was  received  with  the  usual  scepticism 
and  ridicule  which  Englishmen,  especially  those  imbued  with 
the  conservatism  of  rural  places,  are  prone  to  indulge  in. 
One  retired  army  officer  was  so  incensed  that  he  wrote  to  the 
Times  offering  as  an  effective  substitute,  and  at  considerably 
less  expense  to  the  country,  to  put  his  own  cocked  hat  on  a 
stick  by  way  of  protecting  our  sacred  shores  and  striking 
terror  in  the  breasts  of  all  potential  foes. 

As  for  the  scheme  of  flooding  the  marshes,  it  is  interesting 
to  note  that  the  level  of  the  land  is  so  much  below  the  sea 
at  high  tide  in  places,  that  were  it  not  for  Dymchurch  wall, 
the  steep  land  at  Lympne  would  be  still  washed  by  the  waves 
as  when  the  Romans  came,  and  be  something  like  seven  or 
eight  feet  deep  in  spring  tides. 


STUDIES   IN   NAPOLEONIC   LANDSCAPE 


6.5 


l,< 


I 


THE   HILL   COUNTRY   NEAR    HYTHE. 


A  century  has  passed  and  Napoleon's  threat  of  invasion 
is  almost  forgotten,  or  only  likely  to  be  revived  as  part  of 
the  centenary  remembrances  of  his  death.  From  the  heights 
of  Lympne,  with  its  broad  prospect  of  land  and  sea — 

Where  Grisnez  winks  at  Dungeness, 
Across  the  narrow  strip  of  salt, 

our  Premier  and  the  French  President  have  met  in  friendly 
discussion  of  their  mutual  interests. 

F 


66 


UNKNOWN   KENT 


Shade  of  Pitt !  What  revenge  does  time  bring.  It  would 
have  seemed  to  the  patriot  of  a  hundred  years  ago  as  mad  as 
the  prospect  to-day  of  an  Anglo-Prussian  alliance  against 
France. 


ROMAN   WALLS   NEAR  LYMPNE. 


VI 
THAMES-SIDE  KENT 


y    '/v-MW — t^ 


V  — ^~~    '  »     '    - 


«&    v. 


«^-/ 


CLIFFE   CREEK* 


^ 


THE    "WORCESTER       AT    GREENHITHE. 


THAMES-SIDE  KENT 

T  SUPPOSE  there  is  no  part  of  Kent  so  little  known  to 
*  those  whose  lawful  occasions  do  not  take  them  there  on 
business  as  the  river-shore,  along  the  northern  limit  of  the 
county  and  the  marshes  below  Gravesend  backed  by  a 
ridge  of  hill  that  divides  the  Thames  from  the  Medway.  Of 
this  last  tract  of  country,  known  as  the  Hundred  of  Hoo,  no 
one  seems  to  have  a  good  word  to  say.  The  old  rhyme  gave 
the  dog  a  bad  name — 

He  that  rideth  in  the  Hundred  of  Hoo 
Besides  pilfering  Seamen  shall  find  dirt  enow. 

And  writers  since  have  stuck  to  it.     Mr.  Walter  J  errold,  in 
his   Highways   and   Byways   in  Kent,    dismisses    the   whole 


70  UNKNOWN   KENT 

region  in  a  page  and  a  half,  though  he  allows  that  "  there  is 
much  pleasant  country  to  be  seen  in  the  wooded  hills  and 
cornlands  stretching  across  the  central  part  of  the  peninsula 
and  a  charm  in  the  broad  marshes  going  down  to  the  river." 
He  says  "  the  villages  have  not  much  to  detain  us  except  that 
of  Cooling."  Another  Kentish  topographer,  Mr.  Charles 
Cox,  in  his  Rambles  in  Kent,  speaks  of  the  Hundred  of 
Hoo  as  having  "no  claim  to  be  picturesque  or  attractive." 
11  Probably,"  he  writes,  "  this  dreary  peninsula  is  the  least 
visited  of  any  part  of  Kent,  and  the  rambler  is  advised  to 
shun  it  unless  he  is  a  church-lover."  Guide-books,  as  far  as 
I  can  remember,  are  equally  contemptuous. 

My  attention  was  first  called  to  this  part  of  the  world  by 
the  delightful  scenes  in  Great  Expectations.  For  inspiration 
to  a  landscape  painter  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  anything 
more  suggestive  than  some  of  Dickens's  word-pictures. 

"  Ours  was  the  marsh  country  down  by  the  river,  within, 
as  the  river  wound,  twenty  miles  of  the  sea.  My  first  most 
vivid  and  broad  impression  of  the  identity  of  things,  seems  to 
me  to  have  been  gained  on  a  memorable  raw  afternoon 
towards  evening.  At  such  a  time  I  found  out  for  certain,  .  .  . 
that  the  dark  flat  wilderness  beyond  the  churchyard,  inter- 
sected with  dykes  and  mounds  and  gates,  with  scattered  cattle 
feeding  upon  it,  was  the  marshes  ;  and  that  the  low  leaden 
line  beyond  was  the  river ;  and  that  the  distant  savage  lair 
from  which  the  wind  was  rushing  was  the  sea." 

Here  is  another  one — 

M  The  marshes  were  just  a  long  black  horizontal  line  then, 


THAMES-SIDE   KENT 


7i 


<~\ 


^•1 


OURS   WAS   THE   MARSH   COUNTRY  DOWN   BY   THE   RIVER. 

"GREAT   EXPECTATIONS.' 


as  I  stopped  to  look  after  him  ;  and  the  river  was  just  another 
horizontal  line,  not  nearly  so  broad  nor  yet  so  black  ;  and  the 
sky  was  just  a  row  of  long  angry  red  lines  and  dense  black 
lines  intermixed.  On  the  edge  of  the  river  I  could  faintly 
make  out  the  only  two  black  things  in  all  the  prospect  that 
seemed  to  be  standing  upright ;  one  of  these  was  the  beacon 
by  which  the  sailors  steered — like  an  unhooped  cask  upon  a 
pole — an  ugly  thing  when  you  were  near  it ;  the  other  a 
gibbet,  with  some  chains  hanging  to  it  which  had  once  held 
a  pirate. 

"  It  was  pleasant  and  quiet  there,  with  the  sails  on  the 
river  passing  beyond  the  earthwork,   and  sometimes  when 


72  UNKNOWN   KENT 

the  tide  was  low,  looking  as  if  they  belonged  to  sunken 
ships  that  were  still  sailing  on  at  the  bottom  of  the 
water." 

"  It  was  like  my  own  marsh  country,  flat  and  monotonous, 
and  with  a  dim  horizon  ;  while  the  winding  river  turned  and 
turned,  and  the  great  floating  buoys  turned  and  turned,  and 
everything  else  seemed  stranded  and  still/ ' 

These  and  many  other  equally  effective  glimpses  of  an 
unknown  country  fired  my  imagination  many  years  ago, 
and,  before  I  came  to  live  in  the  Medway  country,  I  often 
rambled  about  that  Thames  marshland.  I  remember  landing 
in  a  sailing-boat  at  Cliffe  Creek,  where  there  were  some  curious 
ruins  of  long-ago  disused  kilns.  Here  is  a  sketch  of  them. 
I  struck  inland  to  make  Rochester,  when  on  the  way  I  beheld 
an  amazing  thing — a  crater  in  Kent. 

Now  I  was  going  down  to  the  sea  in  a  ship,  and  it  is  given 
to  such  people  to  see  the  wonders  of  the  deep  and  a  few  extras 
on  land  thrown  in,  so  I  ought  not  to  have  been  particularly 
astonished.  I  will  recount  the  tale,  however,  for  it  seemed 
to  me  worth  remembering. 

The  New  Geology,  or  The  Story  of  a  Crater  in  Kent 

One  summer  afternoon,  when  the  tide  had  turned  against 
her  and  when  the  wind  had  died  down  to  an  almost  imper- 
ceptible stirring  of  the  air,  a  small  sailing  craft  dropped  anchor 
off  the  creek  at  Cliffe.  Her  captain  and  crew,  with  cheery 
optimism,  had  given  Rochester  as  their  next  address,  so  it 


A    ROAD    OUT   OF   CL1FFE. 


74  UNKNOWN  KENT 

was  decided  that  an  expedition  for  the  purpose  of  fetching 
letters  should  be  fitted  out. 

I  volunteered  to  be  the  expedition.  Sketch-book  in  hand, 
I  started  on  a  ramble  which  had  Rochester  as  a  distant  objec- 
tive, chancing  such  finds  as  the  landscape  of  the  land  could 
afford.  The  marshes  seemed  asleep  and  the  dull  and  distant 
beat  of  the  paddle  of  some  steamer  alone  indicated  that  the 
activities  of  time  and  tide  were  still  proceeding. 

Near  Higham  I  left  the  marshes  and  came  upon  the 
rising  ground  towards  Great  Hermitage,  some  two  hundred 
feet  higher,  with  broad  prospects  of  the  distant  river  now 
almost  invisible  in  the  haze,  led  on  by  the  sight  of  a  windmill 
and  some  mysterious  monument  like  a  damaged  edition  of 
Cleopatra's  needle.  I  could  not  find  out  what  event  or  what 
person  this  obelisk  stood  for,  but  a  farm  labourer  volunteered 
the  information  that  some  one,  he  had  forgotten  who,  had 
built  it,  he  had  forgotten  when,  to  be  seen  from  the  river, 
he  had  forgotten  why. 

He  also  volunteered  the  information  that  "The  Stone 
Horse/'  the  direction  of  which  he  pointed  out  ("  Thank  you, 
sir.  It  is  very  thirsty  weather"),  was  the  departure  point 
for  the  road  into  Strood.  I  thought  I  would  get  better 
acquainted  with  "  The  Stone  Horse  M  and  see  if  I  could  get  the 
landlady  to  make  me  some  tea.  This,  remember,  was  before 
the  days  when  it  was  considered  necessary  for  the  defence  of 
the  realm  to  force  travellers  in  country  places  to  wait  till 
six  o'clock  for  a  drink,  however  hot  the  weather,  for  the 
practical  effect  at  most  inns  of  closing  the  bar  in  the  afternoon 


THAMES-SIDE   KENT 


75 


is  a  general  exodus  of  everybody  connected  with  the  place, 
so  that  the  pleasant  amenities  of  tea  are  no  more.  At  six 
o'clock  it  is  too  late  for  tea,  and  by  that  time  the  traveller 
is  so  thirsty  that  he  will  drink  the  place  dry  on  beer  or 
any  other  liquid  that  can  be  obtained  quickly.     This  state  of 


/,        C 


ENTRANCE    TO   THE   TUNNEL   AT   HIGHAM. 

things  is  supposed  by  innumerable  simple  and  well-meaning 
people  to  promote  temperance. 

I  struck  across  some  fields,  dipping  down  towards  a  little 
wood  of  young  larches.  The  place  was  quiet  and  seemed  out 
of  the  world.  The  ridge  of  Great  Hermitage  hid  the  region 
of  the  Thames,  although  an  occasionally  long-drawn  note  of 
a  siren,  distant  and  attenuated,  still  told  of  ships  on  their 
way  to  London.     I  looked  back  as  I  walked,  and  a  little  to 


76  UNKNOWN   KENT 

my  left  beheld  an  amazing  thing — a  crater  !  The  little  larch 
wood,  I  saw,  overtopped  a  precipitous  descent  from  the  depths 
of  which  rose  wreaths  of  smoke  slowly  dissipating  themselves 
in  the  air  as  they  ascended.  Then  an  ominous  rumble. 
Wonders  unceasing,  I  was  just  in  time  for  the  eruption.  The 
ground  trembled,  the  roar  grew  louder  and  then  died  away 
suddenly  as  a  column  of  white  steam  appeared  like  a  cloud 
escaping  from  the  nether  regions. 

A  closer  inspection  revealed  the  fact  that  I  was  looking 
down  into  the  railway  tunnel  of  the  line  between  Higham  and 
Strood  at  a  point  where  there  is  an  opening.  It  is  a  place 
with  a  curious  history.  I  had,  indeed,  lost  my  crater,  but 
instead  I  found  a  ghost — the  ghost  of  a  dead  canal. 

Time  was,  before  the  railway  had  come  to  kill  them,  that 
canals  were  used  for  the  transport  of  heavy  goods  all  over 
England.  There  are  few  places  that  are  far  removed  from 
shipping  and  the  coast  that  have  not  some  waterway,  linking 
it  up  with  river  and  sea.  Many  of  these  ways  are  now  derelict 
or  disused,  as  the  Wey-Arun  Canal  or  the  Royal  Military 
Canal  of  Romney  Marsh.  Had  not  the  introduction  of  rail- 
ways checked  the  activities  of  the  canals  no  doubt  there  would 
have  developed  a  much  more  connected  system  of  inland 
water  transport.  I  remember  once  seeing  a  map  of  projected 
canals  in  Kent.  They  were  to  run  all  over  the  place.  I 
cannot  remember  many  details,  but  I  know  one  scheme  was  to 
link  the  Medway  with  the  Royal  Military  Canal  near  Appledore 
by  cutting  from  a  point  near  East  Peckham  at  a  cost  of 
£320,000.     A  bill  was  passed  for  this  in  1811,  but  there  was 


:.'      :..•' 


7*1 


A    CRATER   IN    KENT. 


78  UNKNOWN  KENT 

much  delay,  and  it  was  finally  abandoned,  whether  on  account 
of  the  subsequent  foreshadowed  railway  projects  or  not  I  do 
not  know.  The  sketch  (facing  page  126)  of  the  Straight 
Mile  near  Tonbridge  is  also  interesting  in  this  connection, 
as  it  shows  evidence  of  a  similar  abandoned  canal  project. 

The  tunnel  which  now  carries  the  railway  from  Higham 
to  Strood  was  finished  in  1824  f°r  the  waterway  known  as 
the  Thames  Medway  Canal.  It  was  twenty-two  feet  in 
breadth  with  a  towpath  alongside  five  feet  wide,  two  and 
a  quarter  miles  long.  An  amusing  account  is  given  by  a 
traveller  who  went  through  this  subterranean  way  by  steam- 
boat soon  after  it  was  first  opened. 

"  After  our  eyes  had  become  reconciled  to  the  transition 
to  almost  Egyptian  darkness,  relieved,  however,  by  the  lurid 
glare  of  our  flambeaux,  we  had  opportunity  to  contemplate 
our  rather  romantic  situation.  The  steamer  filled  up  nearly 
the  whole  channel,  and  the  noise  caused  by  the  reverberation 
of  the  dash  of  the  paddles  in  the  water,  the  indistinct  light, 
and  the  consciousness  of  being  absolutely  traversing  the 
bowels  of  the  earth,  produced  a  very  odd  sensation/' 

The  canal  was  not  a  financial  success  because,  owing  to 
difficulties  of  tide  levels  at  each  end,  a  barge  passing  through 
was  not  able  to  get  out  again  as  soon  as  she  had  made  the 
seven-mile  voyage.  Thus,  if  there  was  any  wind,  barges 
could  often  sail  round  via  Sheerness  and  be  up  at  Strood  as 
soon  as  through  the  canal,  incidentally  saving  dues.  How- 
ever, there  was  a  good  deal  of  use  made  of  it  by  the  Maidstone 
barges. 


THAMES-SIDE   KENT 


79 


The  South  Eastern  Railway  bought  up  the  canal.  The 
towpath  was  broadened  by  carrying  out  a  platform  on  piles, 
and  on  this  a  single  line  was  laid.  A  correspondent  of  the 
Rochester  Journal  describes  the  running  of  the  first  train  on 
Christmas  Day,  1844.     He  writes — 

"  I  was  in  Frindsbury  Church  when  the  first  whistle 
sounded.     After  the  service  the  Vicar  and  Churchwardens 


%     i5i  ** 


FRINDSBURY   SHORE. 


and  most  of  the  congregation  went  down  in  a  body  to  see  the 
wonderful  machine.  On  coming  through  the  tunnel  the 
funnel  of  the  engine  struck  against  the  chalk  at  the  top,  so 
they  took  it  down  and  cut  it  nine  inches  shorter  before  they 
returned  to  Gravesend." 

The  crater-like  opening  into  which  I  was  now  looking  was 
a  basin  in  the  subterranean  canal  for  the  purpose  of  allowing 
barges  coming  in  opposite  directions  to  pass,  and  a  quay  for 
the  horses  and  drivers  to  do  likewise. 

I  returned  by  this  same  way  at  twilight,  and  then  it  was 


80  UNKNOWN   KENT 

that  I  saw  the  ghost  of  the  old  canal  come  out  to  walk  abroad. 
The  railway  tries  to  forget  its  victim,  but  the  ghost  won't  let 
it.  Trains,  brilliantly  lighted,  tear  by,  whistling  bravely  to 
keep  up  their  courage,  and  then,  shrieking  into  the  tunnel 
on  the  other  side,  make  for  lights  and  London,  but  they 
cannot  escape  the  memories  of  bygone  days. 

Down  in  the  dim  depths  of  that  strange  chasm  invisible 
barges  glide  silently  to  and  fro  and  ghostly  feet  tramp 
noiselessly  upon  the  grass-grown  quays  :  for  the  railway  is 
haunted. 

Cooling  is  generally  believed  to  be  the  original  of  "  Our 
Village' '  in  Great  Expectations.  This  is  no  doubt  on 
account  of  the  tombs  in  the  churchyard,  stone  lozenges, 
with  rows  of  little  lozenges  to  commemorate  a  number  of 
children  that  died  in  infancy.  These  are  so  exactly  described 
by  Dickens  that  somewhat  unreasonably  everybody  jumps 
to  the  conclusion  that  all  the  other  features  of  "  Our  Village  " 
must  be  of  Cooling.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Chalk  contests  the 
honour  somewhat  successfully,  for  the  church  stands  on  the 
fringe  of  the  marshes,  alone  and  about  a  mile  from  the  village. 

I  live  in  Rochester,  where  we  have  Dickensian  Societies 
and  all  sorts  of  controversy  about  these  things.  We  write 
to  each  other  and  write  to  the  local  papers  and  take  sides 
when  Jones  and  Robinson  are  at  it  hammer  and  tongs  as  to 
what  in  the  Dickens  is  the  right  place.  No  one  seems  to 
remember  that  an  author  may  take  an  artist's  licence  and  mix 
things  up  a  bit.     It  is  great  fun  and  adds  zest  to  everyday  life. 


A   BIT   OF  COOLTNG  CASTLE. 


82  UNKNOWN   KENT 

The  principal  interest  of  Cooling  (Cowling)  lies  in  the 
castle  with  a  well-preserved  machicolated  gatehouse.  Built 
within  the  area  of  the  walls  stands  a  perfectly  modern  and 
ordinary  house,  looking  rather  incongruous.  Its  chief  his- 
torical interest  clings  round  Sir  John  Oldcastle,  in  the  time 
of  Henry  IV.  He  was  arrested,  tried  for  heresy,  and  taken 
to  the  Tower  of  London.  He  escaped  once,  but  was  re- 
captured and  executed.  The  castle  held  out  stubbornly 
against  Sir  Thomas  Wyatt  on  his  ill-starred  march  from 
Maidstone  to  London  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Mary. 

This  stronghold  was  built  by  John  de  Cobham  in 
Richard  II. 's  time  as  a  protection  against  foreign  pirates 
who  had  ravaged  the  district.  The  purpose  for  which  this 
old  Manor  House  of  Coulyng  was  thus  fortified  is  still  declared 
in  an  old  tablet  affixed  to  the  gatehouse.  It  is  significant 
that  it  is  lettered  in  English  in  a  period  when  almost  all  such 
inscriptions  and  charters  were  in  Latin — no  doubt  as  a  sign 
that  it  was  a  defence  against  foreign  foes.     It  runs — 

Knouweth  that  beth  &  schul  be 
That  i  am  mad  in  help  of  the  cuntre 
In  knowyng  of  whyche  thyng 
Thys  is  chartre  &  wytnessyng. 

My  acquaintance  with  riverside  Kent  above  Gravesend 
has  been  made  in  boats  of  various  kinds.  Beginning  when  J 
was  at  school  with  journeys  by  steamboat  to  Greenwich 
from  London  I  have  always  delighted  in  the  wonderful  shores 
of  our  muddy  old  Thames. 

The  first  boat  of  my  own  was  a  Turkish  dongola  which 


•  •• 

•      •• 

1  •  * 


•  ••• 


X 

u 

1 

i 

o 

§ 

'< 

s] 

i 

M 

- 


« 


THAMES-SIDE   KENT 


*3 


I?** 


H 


AT    GREENHITHE. 


I  rigged  at  Teddington  with  lee-boards  and  high-peaked  sail 
to  the  astonishment  and  derision  of  the  somewhat  conservative 
waterman.  My  next  was  the  Griffin,  which  I  built  in  the 
Alps  and  sailed — after  twenty  miles  or  so  of  mountaineering — 
via  Lake  Zurich,  the  Limmat,  and  the  Rhine,  to  Holland. 
I  wrecked  her  off  the  Kentish  coast  a  year  afterwards.  We 
had  an  accident  in  being  towed  by  a  smack,  and  we  had  to 
let  her  go  just  off  Kingsgate  Castle.  Then  I  bought  a  Dutch 
boat  from  the  police  in  Holland,  sailed  her  from  Flushing  to 
the  Black  Sea  by  river  and  canal,  over  the  Frankischer  Jura 
Alps,  without  taking  her  out  of  the  water  until  she  was  loaded 
as  deck  cargo  to  a  timber  ship  sailing  from  the  Black  Sea 
to  Glasgow. 

Brown  and  I,  with  a  few  other  brave  spirits,  bumped 
every  bridge  in  London,  and  had  adventures  in  her  that  would 
do  credit  to  Sinbad  the  Sailor.  I  have  sketched  her  here,  off 
Greenwich,  in  rather  a  lop,  getting  mixed  up  with  everything, 
and  having  that  time  of  concentrated  discomfort  which  the 


84  UNKNOWN   KENT 

Briton  calls  pleasure.  I  remember  once  in  Teddington  Lock 
being  hauled  up  for  not  having  her  properly  registered  as  a 
pleasure  vessel.  It  was  raining  hard,  we  were  wet  through  and 
generally  miserable.  I  pointed  out  to  an  obtuse  official  that 
I  would  pay  with  alacrity  if  he  would  point  out  where  the 
pleasure  came  in. 

My  next  venture  in  boats  was  the  Penguin  and,  up  to  the 
present,  my  last.  She  was  built  defiantly  in  opposition  to  the 
most  earnest  reasoning  of  barge  builders  and  men  of  the  sea. 
Prophecies  of  the  most  gloomy  kind  were  plentiful  in  the 
four-ale  bars  of  innumerable  riverside  hostelries  as  to  the  fate 
in  store  for  her  and  all  who  were  insane  enough  to  sail  in  her. 

Her  main  oak  timbers  were  those  of  a  lug  boat  bought  from 
the  West  India  Dock  Co.,  and  she  was  built  up  till  she  had  head 
room  of  six  feet  three  inches  under  her  deck.  Her  water 
line  was  thirty-five  feet  and  her  beam  eleven  feet  two  inches. 
A  leeboard  boat,  two  masted,  rigged  square  forward  and 
fore-and-aft,  she  caused  the  most  tremendous  sensation  in 
bargee  society.  There  was  heavy  betting  that  she  would 
sink  instantly  when  she  was  launched  and  refuse  to  go  about 
if  she  ever  did  get  on  to  a  wind. 

These  gloomy  forebodings  were  happily  not  fulfilled  and 
the  Penguin  started  off  at  5  o'clock  one  morning  against  a 
head  wind  and  tacked  gaily  down  the  river.  Wherever  she 
went  she  was  received  with  shouts  of  hilarious  delight  by  the 
waterside  population,  who  firmly  imagined  that  they  were 
witnessing  some  sort  of  historical  performance  for  the 
"  pictures/'     A  tugman  at  Erith,  in  intervals  between  cries 


THAMES-SIDE   KENT 


»5 


of  exhortation  to  his  mates  to  come  and  behold  the  portent, 
alluded  to  her  as  the  Ark  of  Noah.  With  his  memories  of 
the  Hebrew  Scriptures  somewhat  dimmed  he  inquired  jovially, 
as  he  caught  sight  of  my  wife  on  board,  "  How's  Eve  ?  " 


A  LITTLE   SHIP   FROM   LILLIPUT. 


The  advent  of  the  Penguin  was  a  nine  days'  wonder.  When 
we  saw  pilots  looking  down  upon  us  from  a  position  on 
a  ship  somewhere  above  our  topmast,  we  felt  that  we  had 
justified  our  existence.  It  has  been  reported  to  me  on  good 
authority  that  one  hardened  reprobate  who  beheld  us  from 
the  balcony  of  a  riverside  public-house,  immediately  M  signed 
the  pledge  "  and  became  a  life-long  total  abstainer. 

The  novelty  soon  wore  off  and  the  Penguin  was  accepted 


86 


UNKNOWN   KENT 


without  comment  by  the  intensely  conservative  population 
of  the  barge  world.  Before  we  laugh  at  this  attitude  of  theirs 
towards  something  new  as  something  to  do  with  limited 
education,  let  us  recall  the  fact  that  when  steam  was  first 
introduced,  and  introduced  with  evident  success,  as  a  means 
of  propelling  ships,  My  Lords  of  the  Admiralty  asserted 
solemnly  that  such  new  methods,  while  possibly  useful  to  com- 
merce, were  derogatory  to  the  dignity  of  the  Royal  Navy. 

I  remember,  too,  a  very  picturesque  hulk,  looming  large 
in  the  moonlight  over  against  the  Kentish  shore  near  Erith. 
It  was  a  windy  night  with  a  strong  ebb  tide  running,  and 
we  anchored  close  under  her  lee  for  shelter.  The  place 
seemed  very  snug  and  safe,  till  Brown,  at  the  moment  of 


A     POWDEF    HULK    NEAK    ERITH. 


THAMES-SIDE   KENT 


87 


A    NOCTURNE   OF   NORTHFLEET. 


setting  the  primus  stove  on  fire,  discovered  that  she  was  a 
powder  hulk. 

When  I  am  at  work  on  a  travel  book  and  Brown  is  with 
me  I  suffer  a  good  deal  from  his  enthusiasm.  He  tries  to 
arrange  explorations  which  will  give  me  good  material,  and 
these  often  end  in  great  waste  of  time  and  almost  invariably 
in  mud  and  discomfort.  However,  I  am  bound  to  admit 
he  led  me  into  something  really  interesting  when  he  produced 
a  small  sailing  boat  at  Gravesend  and  announced  that  he  was 
going  to  take  me  to  Mecca. 


88  UNKNOWN   KENT 

I  knew  Brown  well  enough  to  guess  he  would  not  say 
much  about  his  plans  till  we  got  there.  He  told  me  this 
much,  however,  that  pilgrims  and  devotees  were  always  too 
late.  By  the  time  any  cult  had  grown  to  pilgrim-attracting 
proportions  the  exhibit  was  often  in  too  advanced  a  stage 
of  ruin  to  be  much  to  look  at.  He  pointed  out  that  George 
Stephenson's  locomotive,  the  "Rocket/'  was  almost  the  only 
example  of  the  preservation  of  the  first  invention  leading 
to  world  changes.  Where  is  the  first  aeroplane,  the  first 
motor-car,  the  first  steamship,  the  first  gun  ? 

Brown  insisted  on  landing  at  the  A.P.C.M.  Company's 
pier  at  Northfleet,  and  took  me  into  the  labyrinths  of  some 
cement  works.  It  was  dark  now,  and  we  groped  our  way 
painfully  until  we  stood  before  a  curious-shaped  kiln,  much 
the  worse  for  wear,  shaped  like  a  cone  with  the  top  cut  off. 

"  Behold,"  said  Brown,  "  the  Mecca  of  the  future.  Pilgrims 
will  come  from  the  East  and  from  the  West  to  see  this  sight." 

"But,"  I  protested,  "it  is  only  an  ordinary  bottle-kiln 
of  the  old  type.  There  are  some  like  that  by  New  Hythe  on 
the  Medway  (see  sketch,  page  92).  Why  should  anybody 
come  here  ?  " 

"There  have  been  many  ages  and  many  civilizations/' 
Brown  continued.  "  There  was  the  Flint  Age,  for  instance, 
and  the  Bronze  Age.  The  last  century,  with  all  its  mechanical 
strides  in  machinery,  might  be  named — in  fact,  it  has  been 
named — the  Iron  Age.  The  coming  age  will  be  known  as  the 
Ferro-concrete  Age.  It  is  the  great  material  of  the  future. 
This  kiln  was  set  up  by  one  Aspdin,  the  discoverer  of  the 


THE  GIANT  JARS  OF  GREENH1THE 


THAMES-SIDE   KENT  89 

modern  process  of  cement-making  on  which  ferro-concrete 
construction  depends,  just  about  a  hundred  years  ago/' 

I  venerated  the  relic,  and  we  returned  to  the  boat.  The 
wind  was  fresh,  and  we  were  soon  beating  up  towards  London 
with  a  strong  tide  under  us. 

"  The  next  chapter  in  this  story/'  declared  Brown,  u  is 
at  Greenhithe." 

We  reached  the  training  ship  War  spite  about  11.0  p.m. 
The  moon  was  up,  and  everything  looked  very  romantic.  Even 
the  back  alleys  and  mean  houses  of  the  outskirts  of  Greenhithe 
along  by  the  railway  seemed  like  pictures  for  the  Arabian 
Nights,  and  the  air  of  reserve  and  mystery  that  Brown  main- 
tained as  to  our  destination  exactly  suited  the  adventure. 

"  Ferro-concrete/ '  said  Brown,  "  is,  as  its  name  denotes, 
a  combination  of  iron  or  steel  in  the  form  of  bars,  rods,  wires, 
or  trellis  to  reinforce  the  concrete.  The  concrete  sets  and 
combines  with  the  iron  skeleton,  making  a  coherent  mass 
of  enormous  strength.  The  first  use  of  ferro-concrete  was 
made  by  Arnolfo  in  Florence,  when  he  put  an  iron  chain 
round  his  famous  dome  and  embedded  it  in  cement.  He 
established  the  principle,  but  no  architect  seems  to  have 
seen  the  possibilities  of  the  process  for  building.  In  like 
manner  the  Greeks  knew  of  the  power  of  steam,  making  toys 
spin  round  and  round  by  means  of  its  force;  but  no  one 
thought  of  making  it  do  something  more  useful/' 

We  came  out  from  the  path  by  the  railway  embankment 
and  proceeded  down  a  street  of  very  ugly  houses,  Brown 
still  discoursing  on  the  wonders  of  ferro-concrete. 


go  UNKNOWN   KENT 

"  The  uses  to  which  this  material  will  be  put  in  the  future/' 
he  continued,  "  are  endless.  Already,  piles,  gates,  fences, 
bridges,  domes,  and  arches  are  more  strongly  made  in  this 
material  and  infinitely  more  quickly.  The  Pyramids  could 
have  been  built  in  a  year  or  so,  the  Hanging  Gardens 
of  Babylon  run  up  in  a  week,  and  as  for  the  house  in 
the  Arabian  Nights,  that  was  built  in  a  single  night — 
behold !  " 

We  had  turned  down  at  the  end  of  a  line  of  cottages  and 
come  into  an  open  space  of  flat,  low  land.  There,  towering 
above  us,  like  a  magic  castle  in  the  moonlight,  was  a  vast 
construction — unreal,  unearthly,  belonging  to  no  order 
of  architecture.  There  seemed  to  be  giant  jars,  a  hundred 
feet  or  more  in  height.  At  first  I  thought  the  light  had 
played  some  trick,  and  that  I  should  discover  an  optical 
illusion  ;  but  no,  we  walked  up  to  them.  They  were  concrete 
enough.  Stealing  along  the  silent  waterway,  a  topsail  barge 
and  a  stumpy  reflected  in  the  placid  river.  Beyond,  low  lines 
of  marshes  stretched  interminably  along  the  Essex  shore,  and 
a  foreground  of  tumbled  objects  and  pieces  of  machinery 
gave  an  air  of  mystery  to  the  scene.  Altogether  it  was  a 
wonderful  fantasy/' 

"  These/'  said  Brown,  with  an  air  almost  of  proprietorship, 
"  are  the  biggest  bottles  in  the  world.  They  are  for  storing 
cement,  and  will,  when  finished,  house  some  18,000  tons. 
There  are  ten  of  them/' 

Some  of  these  jars  were  unfinished.  The  iron  rods,  like  a 
crop  of  rushes,  could  be  seen  sticking  out  at  the  top.     They 


■n 


DARTFORD. 


92 


UNKNOWN   KENT 


stood  by  the  side  of  the  river,  well  placed  for  loading  into 
ships  and  barges  at  the  quay. 

Brown  had  scored  this  time.  The  dramatic  effect  which 
he  had  tried  to  produce  for  me  had  failed  in  our  first  glimpse 
of  Baghdad,  but  had  come  off  brilliantly  on  the  Thames  shore 
of  the  Super-Cement  Co.  of  Kent. 


ASPDIN  S   KILN,   NORTHFLEET* 


VII 
THE  LAND  OF  CEMENT 


THE  LAND  OF  CEMENT 

IT  was  years  ago  that  Brown  and  I  explored  the  Medway 
in  the  Penguin,  pushing  on  beyond  the  barrier  of 
Rochester  bridge  till  we  reached  Aylesford.  The  story  of 
the  cruise  is  quite  beyond  my  powers  of  description.  Suffice 
it  to  say  that  it  is  a  tale  of  great  hardship  and  incredible  dis- 
comfort. The  river  was  strange  to  us  then.  There  is 
practically  nowhere  to  land  at  high  water  and  nowhere  to 
anchor  at  low  water  except  right  in  the  middle  of  the  channel, 
which  is  very  narrow,  or  where  going  aground  at  an  angle 
of  forty-five  degrees  is  the  result.  Picture,  therefore,  the 
woes  of  a  ship  which  cannot  stop,  doomed  to  wander  up  and 
down,  seeking  rest  and  finding  none. 


96 


UNKNOWN   KENT 


We  spent  our  days  in  strenuous  efforts  with  a  kedge  anchor, 
and  our  nights  in  accommodating  our  bunks  to  the  various 
wild  angles  which  the  boat  took  at  various  states  of  the  tide  ; 
but  we  reached  Aylesford  bridge  in  triumph,  and  I  do  not 
suppose  many  craft  of  the  same  tonnage  have  sailed  the 
whole  way  before  or  since. 

After  a  few  days  of  this  nightmare  navigation,  Brown  was 
called  to  town  by  an  important  business  appointment.  He 
left  suddenly  on  the  homeward  journey,  when  the  boat  had 
stuck  near  Snodland — dropping  tide  and  night  coming  on. 
He  did  not  return.  For  months  afterwards  the  mere  mention 
of  a  kedge  anchor  would  make  him  look  miserable. 

Although  this  attempted  exploration  of  the  upper  Medway 
had  been  a  failure,  we  had  seen  enough  of  the  country  to  whet 
our  appetite  for  further  voyaging.  We  wanted  to  search  out 
the  river  above  Maidstone,  where  the  valley  of  quarries 
narrows  into  the  valley  of  hops.  When  planning  holidays 
with  Brown  I  often  suggested  getting  towed  up  in  stages  to 


M 


•  •   ♦     •  •     •  •  •  • 

•  ••     •  • .   •    •  . . 
• » •  •     •  •     •..••• 


CEMENT  WORKS  AT  BORSTAL 


THE   LAND   OF  CEMENT 


97 


THE    "PENGUIN        BELOW    BRIDGE. 


Tonbridge  and  exploring  in  a  dinghy ;  but  Brown  was 
markedly  unenthusiastic. 

The  solution  of  the  problem  came  about  in  an  unexpected 
manner  by  Brown  becoming  owner  of  a  motor-boat.  I  believe 
he  bought  it  (I  refuse  to  refer  to  it  as  "  her  ")  out  of  self- 
defence,  rather  than  find  himself  involved  in  some  quixotic 
attempt  to  navigate  inland  waters  with  a  sea-going  ship,  his 
last  experience  having  left  him  with  a  peculiar  horror  of  such 
methods  of  travel. 

I  will  not  describe  the  boat,  for  fear  of  hurting  the  feelings 
of  the  builder,  or  of  Brown,  who  swears  by  it.  Whenever  it 
broke  down  Brown  ccJ.d  give  so  lucid  an  explanation  of  the 
cause  and  prove  so  clearly  that  the  circumstances  were 
utterly  exceptional,  that  it  left  him  with  added  admiration 

H 


g8  UNKNOWN   KENT 

of  its  powers.  Any  other  engine  would  have  stopped  running 
long  before,  and  most,  he  was  convinced,  would  never  have 
started.  Whatever  spark  of  admiration  I  had  for  the  thing 
was  effectually  extinguished  on  the  day  that  Brown  left  me 
alone  with  it.  I  admit  that  I  am  not  of  a  mechanical  turn  of 
mind,  but  I  do  not  think  a  really  nice  engine  would  take 
advantage  of  the  fact.  This  one  knew  Brown,  who  would 
caress  it  and  feed  it  here  and  there  with  tit-bits  from  an  oil- 
can and  fiddle  about  with  little  taps  and  things  until  it  fairly 
purred  with  delight. 

Whenever  I  took  it  on  it  sulked.  I  did  exactly  what  Brown 
did — fiddled  about  with  taps  and  nuts  and  poured  oil  on  it, 
far  more  than  Brown  ever  did — but  it  used  to  back-fire  and 
miss-fire  and  catch  on  fire  and  do  all  sorts  of  stupid  things. 
Then  Brown  would  come  over  and  look  at  it,  and  it  went  as 
merrily  as  possible.  However,  it  is  not  so  much  to  tell  you 
of  a  motor-boat  and  how  I  couldn't  manage  it  that  I  am 
writing  these  chapters  on  the  Medway,  but  rather  to  show 
what  varied  country  is  accessible  above  the  ordinary  limits 
of  a  Medway  cruise. 

Ye  yachtsmen  who  have  motor-boats  and  who  are  weather- 
bound below  bridge,  I  write  to  make  known  to  you  a  land  of 
delight,  a  valley  of  mystery,  a  river  of  romance. 

Marred  by  intruding  commerce  and  stained  by  sordid 
manufacture,  a  lovely  valley  has  become,  they  say,  a  valley 
of  desolation — its  villages  black  with  the  smoke  of  the  furnace 
and  its  fair  hills  devoured  by  the  encroaching  works  :  doubly 
betrayed  indeed,  for  has  not  the  ravisher  been  ravished  ? 


•;  ».f   ;., 


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•  * 


THE  PILLARS  OF  WOULDHAM 


THE  LAND  OF  CEMENT 


99 


THE  HORSE-SHOE  BEND  I  THE  MEDWAY  AT  BURHAM. 


Ruined  kilns  and  tottering  chimneys  skirt  the  river,  and 
quarries  abound  in  which  red-rusted  machinery  and  decrepit 
trains  of  trucks  lie  abandoned  as  by  a  plague-stricken 
people. 

To  those,  however,  who  know  this  country  intimately 
there  is  another  side.  The  Medway,  even  here,  has  an  in- 
describable charm.  The  association  of  tidal  river  and  marsh- 
land with  high  wooded  country  on  both  sides  gives  it  a  unique 
character.  The  great  chalk  cliffs  add  ruggedness  and  the 
smoking  furnaces  grimness,  so  that  the  effect  of  the  whole 
is  singularly  impressive. 

Between  Rochester  and  New  Hythe,  where  the  river 
changes  its  character  abruptly,  is  a  succession  of  cement 
works  and  kilns,  some  working  and  some  deserted,  all  with 


100 


UNKNOWN   KENT 


quarries  to  feed  them.  It  is  probably  not  necessary  to  remind 
the  reader  that  cement  is  made  from  chalk,  mud,  and  coke, 
and  the  proximity  of  one  or  more  of  these  ingredients  is, 
therefore,  essential. 

The  Medway  is  particularly  well  situated,  for  the  mud  is 
brought  in  barges  from  the  saltings  below  Chatham,  and  coke 
is  the  only  item  that  has  to  come  from  any  distance.  I  have 
marked  most  of  these  quarries  on  the  map,  but  the  whole 
country  in  places  is  quarried.  In  fact,  it  would  be  accurate 
to  say  that  it  is  generally  the  part  which  is  not  quarried  which 
is  unduly  prominent. 

The  hills  at  the  back  of  Hailing  are  cut  through,  forming 
great  ravines  reminiscent  of  mountain  wildness.     About  a 


.S^f::"':.:''''*''''--:^~r':-:-.;-:;-'S.  -  fti   '^  •-••••... 


te£jte&3#:>  m>  "  v  r  -  tart' 


CEMENT  LAND  FROM  ABOVE  BURHAM. 


THE  LAND  OF  CEMENT 


101 


RUINS    OF   CEMENT   WORKS   NEAR   NEW    HYTHE. 


mile  inland,  up  one  of  these  gorges,  a  road  crosses  at  right 
angles  and  some  houses  are  seen  at  a  giddy  height,  as  if  perched 
upon  a  gigantic  wall.  The  chalk  trains  run  underneath,  and 
the  same  level  is  maintained  at  the  other  side  of  the  barrier. 
The  road,  it  is  interesting  to  notice,  is  part  of  the  Pilgrims' 
Way,  which  soon  becomes  a  mere  track  at  the  foot  of  the 
downs  passing  through  Wrotham  towards  Winchester.  A 
view  at  night  from  the  high  ground  looking  down  into  quarry- 
land  is  most  fascinating. 

The  chalk  ravines  are  lighted  by  arc  lamps,  and  busy  little 
trains  can  be  seen  industriously  puffing  about,   and  men, 


102  UNKNOWN   KENT 

*  * 

roped ,  like  Alpine  climbers,  hewing  at  giddy  heights  on 
precipitous  cliffs.  It  is  worth  while,  too,  to  land  at  night 
at  Hailing  to  observe  the  Dantesque  effects  of  lurid  light 
when  the  stokers  throw  open  the  furnace  doors  and  chequered 
lights  appear  on  the  drifting  smoke. 

It  is  a  dangerous  corner  on  a  falling  tide.  The  current 
sets  across  from  the  ferry-shelter  very  strongly  towards  the 
works,  where  there  are  generally  some  swim-head  lighters 
to  get  under  if  your  motor  fails  at  this  critical  time.  I  know 
it  from  experience,  having  had  to  negotiate  it  on  a  windless 
day  when  sailing.  Be  careful,  also,  of  the  other  extreme, 
and  keeping  so  far  in  at  the  point  that  your  boat  gets  caught 
in  an  eddy  and  spins  round  and  round. 

From  Hailing  to  Snodland  the  river  is  literally  walled  on 
one  side  or  the  other  with  kilns  and  loading  barges,  and  then 
we  come  to  more  open  country  and  the  remarkable  horse- 
shoe bend,  which  starts  just  above  the  paper-mills,  winds 
round  by  the  old  church  at  Burham  Court  Farm,  and  back 
almost  to  the  same  place  again. 

From  a  distance  across  the  fields  it  is  bewildering  to 
watch  the  manoeuvres  of  tugs  and  barges,  for,  unless  you 
happen  to  know  the  course  of  the  river,  you  can  make  nothing 
of  them. 

In  the  sketch  on  page  99,  the  barge  shown  on  the  right 
of  the  picture  will  come  down  to  the  black  water  on  left.  This 
is  the  point  to  which  she  will  get  finally,  but  only  after  she  has 
sailed  round  this  big  loop,  and  not,  as  it  would  appear,  by 
continuing  straight   on.     I   have  seen  these  fields  entirely 


L 


_ S V— r — >— < — *-*•' — *■"»*/. 


THE  NEARER  EAST 

A  FANTASY  OF  BLUEBELL  HILL 


c  • 


•    4         t     i. 


THE  LAND  OF  CEMENT  103 

covered  with  water,  so  that  the  course  of  the  river  was  not 
apparent.  There  was  a  tug  coming  up  at  full  speed,  and  she 
suddenly  started  on  what  looked  like  the  most  eccentric 
gyrations,  doubling  back  and  zig-zagging  about.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  she  was  merely  keeping  the  ordinary  channel. 

At  New  Hythe  are  remains  of  deserted  cement  works  with 
rows  of  old-fashioned  conical  kilns.  There  are  some  quaint 
timbered  cottages,  too,  well  worth  looking  at,  and  one 
especially  to  be  noticed  up  a  small  lane  to  the  left  as  you  leave 
the  river.  It  is  an  adaptation  of  some  very  ancient  building, 
probably  a  pilgrim  chapel,  for  at  various  points  here  the 
pilgrims  must  have  crossed  from  the  Way  on  the  downs 
above  Snodland  to  the  corresponding  track  along  the  hills, 
through  Boxley  and  Charing  to  Canterbury. 

When  land  floods  correspond  with  a  spring  tide,  New 
Hythe  becomes  a  Kentish  Venice.  I  have  seen  barges'  boats 
manoeuvring  in  the  village  street  almost  as  far  as  the  level 
crossing. 

Above  the  ferry  the  river  changes  its  character,  and  Cement 
Land  disappears  suddenly  from  view. 

We  brought  our  boat  to  shore  at  a  wharf  near  Aylesford 
station,  and  did  not  proceed  on  our  voyage  until  we  had  done 
what  every  one  should  do  who  undertakes  this  journey — seek 
out  Bluebell  Hill  and  there  get  a  magnificent  panoramic 
idea  of  the  whole  country.  On  the  road  that  leads  thither, 
joining  the  main  road  at  the  Lower  Bell,  can  be  seen  the 
remains  of  an  ancient  stone  circle — known  as  the  Countless 
Stones.     They  lie  beneath  three  trees  in  a  field  on  the  right — 


104 


UNKNOWN   KENT 


about  one  hundred  feet  from  the  road,  as  far  as  I  can  remember 
— almost  opposite  a  stile. 

Brown  and  I,  in  common  with  most  people,  had  imagined 
that   we  should  see  a  valley  filled   with  a  vast  litter  of 


A    KENTISH  VENICE — NEW  HYTHE  IN   FLOOD. 


rocks,  so  that  at  first  we  were  disappointed.  The  word 
"  countless  "  has  been  applied  to  them,  not  because  there 
are  so  many  that  no  one  can  number  them,  but  because  it  is 
said  that  two  people  never  arrive  at  the  same  result  in  counting 
them.    The  number  is  about  a  dozen,  as  a  matter  of  fact. 


THE  LAND   OF  CEMENT  105 

They  lie  in  such  confusion  that  it  is  impossible  to  see  them 
all  at  once,  and  one  is  apt  to  tick  off  the  same  stone  twice 
in  walking  round,  and  some  being  buried  in  the  ground 
may  protrude  at  different  points,  and  thus  be  reckoned 
as  two. 

A  little  further  up  the  road  on  the  left,  prominently 
situated,  is  Kits  Coty  House,  the  traditional  burial  place  of  a 
British  chief.  The  local  story  told  is  that  an  old  woman  was 
carrying  three  loaves,  one  on  her  head  and  one  under  each 
arm,  when  something  or  other  happened,  I  forget  what, 
and  she  has  remained  like  that  in  a  petrified  condition 
ever  since. 

Here,  too,  you  can  find  some  outposts  of  the  chalk  pits. 
There  are  three  quarries  in  Bluebell  Hill,  two  of  them  have 
kilns  that  are  being  used  for  lime  burning.  Some  cottages, 
built  of  chalk,  stand  picturesquely  in  the  woods  looking 
down  the  steep  slope.  Hewn  chalk  as  a  building  material 
is  more  common  in  Kent  than  is  usually  supposed.  One 
delightful  little  quarry  is  hidden  away  among  the  trees 
just  above  the  Lower  Bell.  The  cliff  is  topped  with  dense 
woods  and  the  roots  of  the  pines  fantastically  fringe  the 
edge.  The  kilns  are  round-topped,  satisfactory-shaped  old 
things  that  suggest  something  romantic  and  Eastern.  I 
am  sure  wicked  genii  emerge  from  them  when  you  are  not 
looking. 

Some  great  chalk  hummocks  have  been  left  as  buttresses 
to  give  additional  strength  to  these  fissured  and  fire-worn 
structures,  and  the  whole  effect  is  quite  beautiful.     If  you 


io6 


UNKNOWN   KENT 


have  not  felt  the  eerie  charm  of  this  country,  stay  here  when 
twilight  deepens  and  watch  the  furnaces  send  rays  to  wander 
among  the  clematis-covered  trees,  and  I  prophesy  that  you 
will  be  purged  of  that  heresy  which  teaches  that  the  works 
of  commerce  are  nothing  but  the  spoiling  of  the  works  of 
nature. 


r^ssSm 


r%r 


VIII 
THE   LAND   OF  THE   BRIDGES 


^•«l. 


AYLESFORD. 


AYLESFORD    BRIDGE. 


THE   LAND   OF   THE   BRIDGES 

THE  first  view  of  Aylesford  as  it  comes  into  sight  at  a 
bend  of  the  river  is  a  striking  one.  The  church,  built 
on  a  steep  bank,  rises  above  a  cluster  of  old  houses  with 
gardens  fringing  the  water.  Nothing  could  illustrate  better 
the  entire  change  of  character  which  the  river  undergoes 
at  this  point.  The  land  of  cement  depends  upon  space 
for  its  charm.  Its  villages  are  frankly  hideous.  We  are 
delighted  with  the  scene  when  the  houses  are  out  of  sight  or 
sufficiently  distant  to  be  vague. 

Here  it  is  different.  The  scale  of  everything  is  far  smaller, 
but  a  variety  of  charm  lies  in  multitudinous  details.  The 
chief  boast  of  Aylesford  is  its  ancient  bridge,  which  is  worth 


no  UNKNOWN   KENT 

a  pilgrimage  to  see.  It  is  the  first  of  five  magnificent  examples 
of  mediaeval  bridge-building  which  give  a  special  interest 
to  the  river  scenery  for  the  next  twelve  miles,  and  on  account 
of  which  this  chapter  is  called  "The  Land  of  the  Bridges" — 
and  on  account  of  these  alone.  There  are  other  devices  for 
crossing  the  river,  both  by  road  and  rail ;  but,  beside  these 
five,  there  is  nothing  worth  calling  a  bridge. 

Aylesford  has  been  altered  to  the  extent  of  throwing  two 
arches  into  one,  for  the  barges  to  go  through,  but  there  must 
always  have  been  one  arch  sufficiently  large  for  big  craft, 
because  there  are  centuries-old  records  of  small  ships  trading 
between  Maidstone  and  the  sea. 

These  other  four  bridges — East  Farleigh,  Teston,  and  the 
two  at  Yalding — are  still  as  they  always  have  been,  except 
for  a  few  minor  alterations  in  the  approaches.  I  do  not 
know  if  the  exact  dates  of  the  building  of  these  bridges  is 
known,  but  the  style  of  work,  more  especially  in  the  pointed 
arches,  seems  to  indicate  church  builders.  In  the  latter  half 
of  the  twelfth  century  brotherhoods  arose  whose  special 
mission  was  the  keeping  up  of  the  hospices  for  travellers  and 
pilgrims,  and  the  building  of  bridges.  They  were  known  as 
"  Hospitalarii  Pontifices,"  and  it  is  to  them,  probably,  that 
these  bridges  owed  their  origin,  although  often  private  people 
built  a  bridge  as  a  pious  act.  I  came  across  a  record  of  1780 
which  speaks  of  one  thus  erected  near  East  Banning,  long 
since  gone  and  replaced. 

There  is  something  restful  and  satisfactory  about  these 
relics  of  Old  England.     At  East  Farleigh  the  arches  are  ribbed 


•T 


>  >    )    > 


•       •   >  •>   • 


.  ■:.,  ;  o    \ 


THE  MEDWAY  NEAR  MAIDSTONE 


THE   LAND   OF  THE  BRIDGES 


in 


underneath  like  a  church 
roof.  It  is  here  that 
Fairfax  and  his  troops 
thundered  over  to  the 
capture  of  Maidstone. 
Teston  Bridge,  standing 
alone  among  green  fields, 
brings  up  an  ideal  ' '  scene ' ' 
for  a  skirmish  between 
Cavaliers  and  Round- 
heads, such  as  Mr.  Ernest 
Crofts  has  so  often  de- 
picted. 

We  started  from  the 
station  wharf  at  Ayles- 
ford,  nearly  on  top  of  the 
tide,  passed  The  Friars, 
an  ancient  mansion, 
through  the  bridge  into 

the  tree-bordered  reach  which  leads  to  Allington,  where  is 
the  first  lock — a  distance  altogether  of  about  a  mile  and  a 
half — and  then  achieved  the  tideless  waters  above  it.  The 
lock  is  delightfully  situated  at  the  foot  of  wooded  slopes, 
and  presents  a  busy  scene  at  high  water  when  the  tugs  are 
marshalling  the  barges  that  are  going  up  or  down. 

The  placid  reach  above  this  point  runs  under  the  battered 
walls  of  Allington  Castle,  a  delightful  relic  of  other  days, 
partly  restored  and  in  use  and  partly  left  in  picturesque  decay. 


ii2  UNKNOWN   KENT 

A  moat  runs  round  it,  communicating  with  the  river.  Some 
idea  of  this  can  be  gathered  from  the  rough  sketch  on  page 
opposite,  a  note  taken  from  the  high  ground  on  the  other  side 
of  the  Medway,  for  some  reasons  the  most  interesting  view  of 
the  castle.  Hidden  from  the  main  road,  which  passes  quite 
near  (a  stile  by  "  The  Running  Horse "  shows  the  foot- 
path to  the  riverside),  and  invisible  from  the  railway,  unless 
you  know  exactly  where  to  look  for  a  distant  glimpse  of  a 
part  of  its  walls,  Allington  Castle  is  very  little  known,  even 
to  people  who  live  comparatively  near.  Considering  its 
dimensions  and  state  of  preservation,  this  is  remarkable.  It 
was  one  of  the  seven  principal  castles  in  Kent. 

A  fortress  stood  on  this  site  in  Saxon  times,  and  was 
demolished  by  the  Danes.  It  was  rebuilt,  and  William  the 
Conqueror  gave  it  to  Odo,  Bishop  of  Bayeux.  A  warden  of 
the  Cinque  Ports  obtained  a  grant  for  a  weekly  market  on 
Tuesdays  and  a  three-days'  fair  on  the  feast  of  St.  Laurence. 
It  was  enlarged  to  its  present  dimensions  in  Edward  I.'s  reign. 
From  Allington  Castle  the  ill-fated  Sir  Thomas  Wyatt  set  out 
on  his  bold  attempt  to  veto  the  Spanish  marriage  of  Queen 
Mary,  raising  the  men  of  Kent  to  march  to  London,  where  he 
was  defeated  and  finally  beheaded. 

A  little  more  than  a  mile  above  the  lock,  Maidstone  comes 
into  sight — a  poor  approach,  like  the  approach  to  most  towns  ; 
but  there  is  a  good  view  ahead  when  the  group  of  ancient 
riverside  buildings  appear  at  the  bend  above  the  town.  The 
fourteenth-century  Palace,  All  Saints'  Church,  and  the  College, 
which  dates  from  1260,  made  a  magnificent  group.    The  best 


THE   LAND   OF  THE   BRIDGES 


ii3 


view  is  obtained  from  the  bridge,  or,  to  be  quite  consistent, 
the-device-for-crossing-the-river-by-road. 


ALLINGTON   CASTLE. 


"Tf. 


1 


Were  it  not  for  the  knowledge  of  the  country  I  have 
obtained  at  other  times,  I  should  have  singularly  little  idea 


ii4  UNKNOWN   KENT 

of  the  Medway  between  Maidstone  and  Wateringbury,  for 
here  it  was  that  Brown  left  me  to  manage  the  boat  alone. 
He  had  called  for  letters  and  found  that  he  would  have  to 
run  up  to  town  for  the  day,  but  first  he  instructed  me  in  the 
art  of  driving  the  engine.  With  cheery  optimism  I  suggested 
meeting  him  in  a  few  hours'  time  at  Tonbridge.  He,  with 
less  faith  in  my  mechanical  powers,  delicately  hinted  that  it 
was  possible  I  might  not  get  so  far.  Finally,  we  arranged  that 
I  should  telegraph  my  position  in  the  afternoon  and  he  would 
join  me  wherever  that  should  be. 

He  started  the  engine  and  hopped  out,  while  I  shot  forward, 
confident  of  success.  Brown  watched  me  until  the  corner 
took  me  out  of  sight,  looking,  I  thought,  somewhat  anxious  ; 
but  I  was  sure  there  was  no  need  to  fear.  He  had  told  me 
exactly  what  to  do  in  any  emergency.  I  was  not  in  the  least 
disconcerted  when  the  engine  stopped  as  I  was  passing  the 
wharves  at  Tovil.  I  started  it  again,  just  like  Brown  did, 
with  great  success  and  considerable  surprise  that  it  was  so 
simple.  I  thought  with  some  scorn  of  Brown's  statement 
that  the  artistic  temperament  did  not  go  with  mechanical 
skill.  Then  it  stopped  again  and  I  started  it  again — not,  it 
is  true,  with  quite  the  same  facility ;  but  still  the  engine  was 
running,  if  somewhat  spasmodically.  I  then  did  a  fatal  thing, 
as  I  found  out  afterwards.  I  increased  the  supply  of  petrol. 
With  base  ingratitude  the  thing  stopped  altogether,  and 
refused  to  be  coaxed  into  going  at  all. 

Tying  up  the  boat,  I  landed  and  sought  professional 
advice.     The  only  assistance  I  could  get  was  from  a  man 


•••  »t»  *••        J  >  >     > 

«  •      »»>>>  *>  >         >       I  11>  > 


OLD  MAIDSTONE  FROM  THE  KIVEK 


c         o     o    ••    ••     • 
«   I     i      c 


l         I  ' 

C     c            •  O     •«  I 

I  *     l    t  i  i 

til     I  '"-•-  t    I 

I          I     I  I      *«  I      < 


THE   LAND   OF  THE  BRIDGES 


ii 


1% 


EAST    FARLEIGH. 


who  assured  me  he  understood  everything  about  engines, 
having  spent  most  of  his  life  among  them.  By  this  time  I 
had  given  up  the  attempt  to  find  a  motor-boat  expert,  so  I 
accepted  his  offer.  He  began  by  asking  where  the  fire  was, 
which  was  not  encouraging.  He  explained  that  all  the  engines 
he  had  ever  managed  had  fires.  I  told  him  that  the  only 
fires  we  ever  had  on  board  were  accidental ;  but  he  said  he 
thought  he  could  soon  find  out  what  was  the  matter.  He 
looked  at  the  motor  and  said  it  wanted  oiling.  Producing  a 
can  he  pronounced  it  all  right  if  it  were  once  started.  I  tried 
immediately,  and  it  went  merrily.  What  a  wonderful  thing 
is  expert  knowledge  !     I  thought  half  a  crown  had  been  too 


n6  UNKNOWN    KENT 

easily  earned,  but  I  was  thankful  that  the  boat  was  going  so 
well.  However,  it  soon  began  to  fail  again,  and  not  far  below 
East  Farleigh  Lock  it  stopped  dead.  This  time  I  found  a 
real  engineer,  or,  at  any  rate,  a  man  wearing  a  boiler  suit, 
which  inspired  not  a  little  confidence  in  the  uninitiated.  He 
started  the  engine  at  once,  and  I  could  not  see  in  what  way 
his  starting  differed  from  mine.  But  I  suppose  the  engine 
could. 

Now  that  the  boat  was  going  so  well  I  did  not  want  to 
stop  it  just  because  of  a  mere  lock.  Brown  had  shown  me 
how  to  move  the  clutch  and  thus  alter  the  angle  of  the  pro- 
peller blades  for  stopping  still  or  going  astern.  I  therefore 
dashed  into  the  lock  at  full  speed  and  then  reversed.  Some- 
how the  boat  did  not  pull  up  as  quickly  as  I  had  expected 
she  would,  and  I  charged  the  upper  gates  with  considerable 
force. 

There  was  a  crash,  and  then  I  found  the  reversing  business 
was  being  overdone,  and  I  was  rushing  backwards  out  of  the 
lower  gates.  I  jammed  on  full  speed  ahead  and  made  another 
wild  plunge  forward,  churning  up  the  water  all  around.  I 
reversed  sooner  this  time,  and  then  settled  down  to  a  series 
of  nerve-racking  spurts  backwards  and  forwards,  but  managed 
to  hit  nothing.  By  this  time  I  became  dimly  conscious  of 
another  boat,  which  had  apparently  broken  adrift  in  the  lock, 
and  beheld  an  elderly  lady  climbing  in  terror  up  a  slippery, 
weed-covered  ladder,  shouting  for  help.  Thus  the  promptings 
of  humanity  rather  than  faintheartedness  in  experimental 
motor-boating  compelled  me  to  stop  the  engine. 


THE  LAND   OF  THE   BRIDGES 


117 


When  Brown  responded  to  my  telegram  by  joining  me  at 
the  lock  below  Wateringbury,  whither  I  had  made  my  way 
by  means  of  every  device  known  to  navigation,  except  motor- 
power,  he  explained  what  had  been  wrong  in  my  management. 
I  had  turned  on  too  much  petrol.     Consequently  the  valve 


' 


Smhr^ 


TESTON    BRIDGE. 


soon  froze.  The  work  of  the  two  alleged  engineers  was  mere 
coincidence.  In  each  case  there  had  been  an  interval  for 
liquefaction,  and  any  one  could  have  started  the  engine  for 
a  time,  although  it  would  obviously  soon  get  into  the  same 
condition  again.  Under  Brown's  control,  the  boat  ran  without 
a  hitch,  and  in  about  twenty  minutes  we  were  entering 
Yalding  Lock.     Above  this  point  there  is  a  canal-like  reach 


n8  UNKNOWN   KENT 

which  saves  a  tortuous  loop  of  river,  joining  up  again  at  a 
delightful  spot  above  Twyford  Bridge,  where  we  moored  and 
spent  the  rest  of  the  evening  in  exploring  what  proved  to  be 
one  of  the  most  unspoiled  and  unconsciously  picturesque  old 
villages  we  had  ever  seen — Yalding. 

Above  the  village,  the  ridge  of  hill  which  I  have  described 
more  fully  further  on  in  "  The  Amateur  Archaeologists " 
affords  glorious  views  of  the  Weald.  It  is  worth  a  stiff  climb 
to  stand  near  the  old  farm  of  Burston,  once  the  seat  of  the 
Fane  family,  to  look  down  on  the  gleaming  waters  of  the 
Medway  as  it  winds  among  the  level  grass  lands  and  loses 
itself  among  thick  trees.  It  is  from  a  field  near  this  place 
that  I  made  the  sketch  for  the  plate  "The  Medway  at 
Yalding  "  (facing  page  152).  If  you  can  be  up  there  on  a 
day  when  there  is  a  tearing  wind  and  a  broken  sky  that 
chequers  the  distant  country  with  sunshine  and  shadow,  you 
will  take  away  with  you  haunting  memories. 

This  region  is  the  richest  of  all  the  hop  country  of  Kent. 
West  Farleigh,  Yalding,  and  Hunton  form  together  a  veritable 
Mecca  of  Hops.  Hunton,  with  its  old  church  and  shingle 
spire  almost  hidden  in  trees,  is  worth  a  visit,  and  the  valley 
further  on  holds  in  store  many  surprises  in  the  way  of  half- 
timbered  farm-houses  and  quaint  cottages,  but  it  lies  outside 
the  radius  of  a  motor-boat's  itinerary. 

Here  flows  the  river  Beult,  joining  the  Medway  loop  and 
explorable  to  greatest  advantage  in  a  canoe.  Yalding  is  very 
liable  to  floods,  on  account  of  the  sudden  narrowing  of  the 
valley  at  this  point.    The  wide  level  fields  suddenly  become 


THE   LAND   OF  THE  BRIDGES 


119 


hemmed  in  by  hills  (ABC  and  DEF  on  map,  p.  127),  and  the 
Yalding  region  is  a  wedge-shaped  plain  with  the  narrow  neck 
at  Nettleshead  and  Wateringbury  as  the  only  means'of  escape 


BRIDGE  AND    CHURCH,  YALDING. 

for  the  flood  water.  Consequently  the  Medway  stream  at  this 
point  between  the  high  land  on  either  bank  is  unable  to  keep 
pace  with  the  demands  made  upon  it  when  heavy  rains  have 
come  down  from  Tonbridge  and  the  Beult.  Along  the  level 
tracts  of  grass  between  Twyford  Bridge  and  Yalding  village 
white  posts  are  placed  to  mark  the  roads  and  paths  when  the 
whole  place  is  under  water.    The  Beult  is  crossed  by  a  rambling, 


120 


UNKNOWN   KENT 


buttressed  bridge,  which  is  a  delight  to  the  eye,  of  the  most 
sturdy  proportions  and  weather-beaten  aspect. 

The  most  enjoyable  way  of  exploring  the  little  river  Beult, 
when  there  is  enough  water  to  do  so,  is  to  take  a  canoe.  Of 
course  there  is  a  good  deal  of  land  transport  and  a  good 
deal  of  argument  with  indignant  land-owners,  but  these  are 
necessary  evils  to  an  otherwise  delightful  inland  voyage. 


~V-V[ 


ON    THE    BEULT,  YALDING. 


IX 
THE  LAND  OF  STREAMS 


THE  LAND  OF   STREAMS 

AT  3.0  a.m.  I  awoke  from  a  troubled  sleep  to  find  one  of 
l\  my  legs  immersed  in  a  lake  and  the  other  apparently 
floating  about  on  a  raft.  Too  drowsy  to  notice  anything 
unusual  in  this,  I  felt  vaguely  indignant  at  the  situation. 
My  right  leg  was  very  cold  and  my  attempts  to  lift  it  on  to 
dry  land  seemed  to  send  the  raft  which  carried  my  left  on 
spasmodic  voyages.  I  discovered,  to  my  relief,  that  this  leg 
was  still  attached  to  my  body  though  borne  about  in  a  manner 
which  was  beyond  my  control.  The  moon  was  shining,  and 
it  was  fairly  light.     As  I  awoke  more  thoroughly,  I  began 


124  UNKNOWN   KENT 

to  reason  out  the  phenomenon.  We  were  evidently  still  in 
the  boat  and  under  the  awning  that  had  been  put  up.  Brown 
was  fast  asleep.  I  observed,  however,  that  he  was  on  a  higher 
level  than  I,  a  feature  I  had  not  noticed  in  our  arrangements 
when  we  turned  in.  Then  it  occurred  to  me  it  would  be  a 
good  idea  to  wake  him  up  and  ask  him  what  he  thought  about 
it  all.  My  efforts  to  do  this  roused  me  completely,  and  I 
realized  suddenly  that  the  boat  was  at  a  steep  angle,  half 
full  of  water  and  probably  sinking. 

Brown  knew  at  once  what  had  happened.  He  dived  to 
turn  off  some  tap  or  other,  and  we  started  baling  hard  with 
biscuit  tins.  The  raft  on  which  my  leg  had  gone  adrift  proved 
to  be  one  of  the  large  air-cushions  that  constituted  our 
mattress.  As  my  feet  had  been  kept  dry  until  one  of  them 
slipped  off  this  support,  we  had  not  felt  the  flood  before  it 
had  accumulated  to  formidable  proportions.  Dawn  had 
broken  before  order  was  restored.  The  dark  masonry  of  the 
old  bridge,  contrasting  with  the  foam-flecked  waters  of  the 
weir,  made  a  delightful  picture. 

Sleep,  as  far  as  I  was  concerned,  had  been  fitful  before 
this  interruption,  but  now  it  seemed  little  use  seeking  it. 
Whenever  I  began  to  doze  I  jumped  up,  thinking  we  were  at 
the  bottom  of  the  river  or  adrift  or  on  fire.  I  had  little  faith 
in  Brown's  boat.  If  leaving  a  tap  on  will  sink  us,  leaving 
the  battery  on  might  electrocute  us,  and  leaving  the  petrol 
on  might  blow  up  the  whole  concern. 

The  sun  was  high  in  the  sky.  As  Brown  showed  no  sign 
of  turning    out  I  went    for  a  walk  along  the  river  bank. 


>  •  J  >  »  «    *       » 

•  J  >  •  •  '     »    • 

>  >  »   »  »  »      »  » 
>  J  >  •  ■        • 


>  I      »  >     » 

1     •      •  »     » » 

■    ,   •      >  •    • 


»  •     •  •  I 


HADLOW  TOWER 


THE   LAND   OF  STREAMS  125 

Incidentally  I  met  a  man  with  much  local  information  about 
the  part  of  the  Medway  we  were  about  to  explore.  There 
is  a  place  near  Tonbridge  called  M  The  Stair  " — we  should 
pass  it — interesting  because  it  had  something  to  do  with 
smugglers.  He  seemed  very  hazy  about  the  period,  but  I 
made  a  mental  note  of  what  he  told  me,  for  I  knew  a  search 
for  smuggling  haunts  would  delight  Brown.  It  seems  a 
strange  place  to  come  across  smugglers.  They  would  have  to 
smuggle  such  a  long  way,  and  the  chances  of  being  caught 
between  the  sea  and  Tonbridge  would  be  frequent.  Possibly, 
if  the  story  be  true,  they  brought  up  bogus  cargoes  and  this 
was  a  quiet  place  to  run  them,  a  point  on  the  river  literally 
above  suspicion. 

Breakfast  over,  we  got  under  way.     Through  two  locks 
to  Branbridges,  and  then  into  open  country  which  abounds 
in  wood  and  innumerable  tributary  brooks.     I  have  called 
this  chapter  M  The  Land  of  Streams  "  because  whenever  you 
go  on  shore  you  find  yourself  on  an  island.     Little  rivers  riihi  • 
out  of  the  main  river  and  in  again  at  will,  and  the  vicinity  ,  ,    , 
of  the  Medway  between  this  point  and  the,  shallows  aboyq'-;  ;  ••• 
Tonbridge  is  a  network  of  watercourses.     It  is  a  characteristic 
that  is  difficult  to  show  by  means  of  drawings,  because  there 
is  nothing  in  any  one  view  that  gives  a  clue  to  the  nature  of 
the  district.     It  is  a  green  land,  this  land  of  streams,  dominated 
for  a  long  way  by  the  distant  spire  of  Hadlow  Castle. 

Since  this  cruise  was  done  the  whole  of  the  Medway  between 
Maidstone  and  Tonbridge  has  been  "  up."  It  is  in  the  hands 
of  engineers  undergoing  a  transformation.     Locks  have  been 


•  *  • 

•  •  • 

•  •  •  • 

•  •  • 


126  UNKNOWN   KENT 

enlarged  so  that  barges  of  one  hundred  tons  can  use  it. 
Hitherto  vessels  of  small  tonnage  only  had  been  able  to  navi- 
gate this  section,  and  the  locks  had  fallen  into  a  very  bad 
state,  some  of  them  bearing  an  ominous  notice  that  they 
can  be  worked  at  the  user's  risk  !  Since  writing  these  notes 
years  ago,  the  reformed  and  revised  Upper  Medway  has  again 
fallen  on  evil  days,  and  has  an  uncertain  future. 

"The  Stair "  is  a  low  hill  rising  from  the  flat  fields  within 
about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  river  on  the  right  bank. 
A  large  red-brick  house,  some  cottages,  farm  buildings,  and 
a  few  oasthouses  constitute  the  hamlet.  To  reach  it  we  had 
to  cross  two  streams  and  make  a  somewhat  meandering 
approach.  We  found  no  trace  of  smuggling,  search  how  we 
would.  Local  inquiries  resulted  in  a  wild-goose  chase  to 
find  a  ruined  mansion  of  which  a  few  walls  and  some  green- 
houses alone  remained,  but  we  could  get  little  encouragement 
and  no  information.  It  is  wonderful  how  small  is  a  country- 
iman'&  /knowledge  of  a  thing  that  he  sees  every  day.  I 
rernernber  once  asking  an  old  gardener  who  worked  in  the 
gr#unds;  of  an '.abbey,  what  was  the  period  of  the  ruin.  He 
told  me  he  thought  it  was  "  one  o'  they  old-fashioned  places.' ' 

"  But,"  I  asked,  "  don't  you  know  about  how  old  ?  " 

"  Bless  ye,  sir,"  he  replied  right  jovially,  "  I  reckon  it 
was  built  afore  your  time,  sir."  And  then  he  added,  as  if  it 
would  settle  the  question  of  its  antiquity,  "  or  mine  either, 
for  the  matter  o'  that." 

The  smugglers  cave  proving  a  frost,  we  pushed  on  and 
landed  at  Tonbridge  for  lunch.     This  was  a  piece  of  diplomacy 


"*?••««»  f*wnL# 


THE  STAIR,  TONBRIDGE 


t  • 

I        ,      J   >    I 


1  »•       »  >  •    »      J     ) 

'      '    >   >      >   »  J     < 

'  J       »    •    f      »    »    »        > 


THE   LAND  OF  STREAMS 


127 


/'i/xXftiV^' 


tsffff^ 


WATCRlM 


;k  ^ 


on  my  part  to  get  Brown 
keen  on  Ye  Old  Chequers 
Inn,  and  to  suggest  later 
in  the  day,  as  if  it  had 
been  a  sudden  inspira- 
tion, that  we  should 
pack  our  bags  and  put 
up  there  for  a  bit.  Two 
nights  in  succession  like 
last  night  would  be  too 
wearing  to  the  constitu- 
tion. 

About  a  mile  above 
the  town  there  is  a  tributary  river  which  leads  up  to  some 
powder-mills.  At  its  junction  with  the  Medway  there  is  a 
single  pair  of  lock  gates.  How  on  earth  you  could  use  a  lock 
that  possessed  only  one  pair  of  gates,  or  how  it  could  even  be 
a  lock,  neither  Brown  nor  I  could  determine,  nor  could  any 
inquiry  enlighten  us.  The  water  was  some  feet  higher  on 
the  inner  side  and  we  naturally  wondered  how  a  boat  could 
go  through.  I  reproduce  here  a  conversation  between  Brown 
and  the  sluice  man  which  throws  some  light  on  the  subject — 

Brown  :  Where  is  the  other  pair  of  gates  ? 

Sluice  Man  :  Ain't  no  other  bloomin'  gates. 

Brown  :  But  how  do  you  open  them  ? 

Sluice  Man :  I  opens  the  bloomin'  sluices  and  that  lets 
out  the  water,  and  when  the  water's  level  on  t'other  side  the 
bloomin'  gates  11  open. 


128  UNKNOWN   KENT 

Brown  :  But  if  the  water  is  even  on  both  sides  what's 
the  good  of  the  gate  ? 

Sluice  Man  :  To  keep  the  bloomm'  water  up,  o'  course. 

He  seemed  to  resent  our  thirst  for  knowledge,  so  the 
conversation  flagged. 

We  had  seen  a  ballast  lighter  drifting  down  the  river,  and 
this  came  into  the  bend.  The  sluices  were  drawn  up,  and  when 
the  water  had  dropped  on  the  inner  side  the  gates  were  opened. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  there  was  considerable  flow  in  the  stream, 
which  meant  that  the  levels  were  only  approximately  even. 
The  lighter  was  hauled  through  and  the  gates  shut  again. 
The  canal  regained  its  former  level  very  soon,  and  the  slow- 
moving  craft  proceeded  on  its  way. 

We  thought  over  the  problem,  and  decided  that  the  explana- 
tion was  simple.  At  the  far  end  of  a  long  reach  of  water  it 
takes  some  time  for  an  alteration  of  the  level  to  be  felt.  There 
is  tremendous  inertia  in  water.  When  the  sluices  are  opened, 
the  water  near  the  gates  finds  an  apparent  level,  although  there 
is  a  slight  drop.  By  the  time  the  bulk  of  the  water  above  has 
felt  the  change,  the  barge  is  through  and  the  gates  shut  again. 

Unless  I  had  seen  it,  I  should  not  have  believed  in  the 
efficacy  of  one  pair  of  gates.  The  sluice  man's  explanation 
would  have  left  me  a  confirmed  sceptic.  This  thing  is  a 
parable,  and  there  is  a  moral  to  be  found.  When  people 
give  you  an  absurd  or  inadequate  explanation  of  a  belief,  it 
does  not  follow  that  their  belief  is  not  justified. 

We  went  some  distance  up  the  main  river,  but  the  limit 
of  motor-boat  navigation  was  in  sight.     It  is  possible  to  go 


'•••■Y  ..c.,,-^    r.v"Wv 


'    ,   \ 


^- 


•  "Warn. 


>     .    . 

•  •     • 


THE  STRAIGHT  MILE,  TONBRIDGE 


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THE  LAND  OF  STREAMS 


129 


as  far  as  the  Weir,  but  there  is  no  lock  or  even  rollers  for 
getting  boats  up.  When  the  river  is  low  there  are  various 
possibilities  of  grounding  before  this  point.  One  is  under  the 
railway  bridge,  and  another  is  a  palisade  of  snags,  sometimes 


THE    TWELVE    APOSTLES. 


known  as  the  Twelve  Apostles  (see  sketch),  which  will  cheer- 
fully knock  a  hole  in  your  boat  or  break  the  propeller,  accord- 
ing to  the  way  you  approach  them.  If  you  succeed  in  running 
the  gauntlet  there  are  some  more  traces  of  a  wooden  bridge — 
I  don't  know  what  they  are  called,  but  we  named  them  the 

K 


130 


UNKNOWN   KENT 


Seven  Devils.  I  think  the  Apostles  are  the  worst,  because 
they  are  under  water.  Judas  Iscariot  is  out  of  the  straight, 
and  this  is  the  one  that  you  do  not  see  in  time. 

There  is  another  strange  thing  that  the  explorer  may  come 
upon  near  Tonbridge.  It  is  a  curious,  grass-covered  trench, 
starting  from  near  this  part  of  the  river,  known  as  The  Straight 
Mile — an  attempt,  made  about  a  hundred  years  ago,  to  extend 
the  navigation  of  the  river  in  the  direction  of  Penshurst — 
an  attempt  which  failed. 

Our  quest  was  over :  we  could  get  no  further.  We  had 
done  our  work,  and  soon  we  should  get  the  enjoyment.  I 
mean  the  enjoyment  of  recollection,  for  that  is  often  the  best 
part  of  a  cruise.  Brown  was  easily  persuaded  to  get  up 
the  local  colour  of  Tonbridge,  and  we  put  up  at  Ye  Olde 
Chequers  Inn  for  a  few  days. 


y«  OU  Others 


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THE   LOST  ROAD   OF  KENT 


cH&aKOi/kri 


6V/ER 


THE    SEA   CO^ST   AND   THE 
w£Aud"  Coast" 

the  black  lines  here  represent  the  known  roman  roads  and 
the  dotted  line  a  conjectured  roman  road. 


"H 


THE   LOST  ROAD  OF  KENT 


OF  the  many  pleasant  places  that  hide  themselves  along 
the  southern  slope  of  the  ragstone  ridge  by  Maidstone, 
one  of  the  most  delectable  corners  is  a  green  garden  in  Sutton 
Valence.  It  is  right  under  the  ruins  of  the  castle,  with  broad 
prospect  of  the  wide  Weald  of  Kent.  A  spring  wells  up  in  the 
chequered  shade  of  the  upper  terrace,  feeding  a  lily  pond 
under  the  trees.  This  jolly  little  brook  plays  hide-and-seek 
among  the  clustered  flowers ;  pauses  to  fill  a  clear  pool  here 
and  there,  and  then  hurries  on  merrily,  to  make  up  for  lost 
time.  It  dives  under  a  lawn,  appears  again  among  the  roses, 
and  then  laughingly  loses  itself  in  an  orchard  below. 


134  UNKNOWN   KENT 

It  was  in  this  garden,  on  a  warm  afternoon  in  the  early 
summer,  that  Brown  galvanized  a  whole  party  of  slightly 
soporific  people  of  both  sexes  and  all  ages  into  red-hot  archae- 
ologists, bent  on  the  instant  discovery  of  a  Roman  road. 

It  happened  in  this  wise.  We  were  a  merry  party  staying 
with  the  Thornhills  at  this  most  delightful  spot  I  have  de- 
scribed. The  good  Professor,  abroad  on  archaeological  work, 
had  settled  his  family  here  for  the  summer.  Mrs.  Thornhill 
and  Betty  were  in  great  form  with  their  delightful  archaeo- 
logical picnics.  Now  that  the  Professor  was  away  the  subject 
of  archaeology  was  not  even  mentioned,  but  they  were  just  as 
enjoyable  for  all  that. 

The  afternoon  was  hot,  just  hot  enough  to  make  you 
realize  the  delightfulness  of  the  dappled  sunshine  through  the 
trees,  and  the  coolness  of  the  splashing  water.  We  were  all 
more  or  less  abandoned  to  the  delights  of  the  garden  and  the 
drowsy  consequences  of  lunch.  Mrs.  Thornhill  was  undis- 
guisedly  asleep.  My  better  half,  Eve,  nominally  reading  a 
book,  was  getting  very  near  the  same  state.  Scylla  and 
Charibdis,  our  family,  were  doing  great  damage  to  the  garden 
by  violent  pursuit  of  a  tortoiseshell  butterfly.  I  was  too 
drowsy  myself  to  take  much  notice  of  their  tactics,  but  the 
progress  of  their  hunt  was  borne  across  the  garden  in  shouts 
of  triumph  or  disappointment,  like  "  hot  M  and  "  cold  "  in 
a  game  of  hide-and-seek.  It  is  a  strange  fact  of  natural 
history,  as  yet  not  sufficiently  noticed  by  science,  that 
whereas  animals  and  adult  human  beings  tend  to  become 
quiet  and  even  sleepy  after  heavy  meals,  young  children  will 


THE   LOST  ROAD  OF   KENT 


135 


eat  until  they  cannot  manage  any  more  and  then  leap  about 
and  play  tumbling  games  that  would  kill  less  remarkably 
constituted  creatures. 

Brown  and  Betty  were  examining  a  large  map  spread 
out  on  the  lawn.  I  think  Brown  felt  it  was  up  to  him,  now 
that  the  Professor  was  away,  to  display  an  interest  in  the 
antiquities  of  Kent,  and  was  consequently  trying  to  enthuse 


THE   CASTLE,    SUTTON    VALENCE. 


Betty  with  some  historical  theories  of  his  about  roads  in  the 
Weald.  In  this  he  seems  to  have  been  more  successful  than 
the  Professor,  for  I  never  remember  Betty  to  be  so  attentive 
to  topographical  details.  I  do  not  know  whether  it  is  neces- 
sary for  two  people  looking  at  a  map  to  put  their  heads  quite 
so  close  together,  but  I  suppose  the  type  was  small  and  they 
wanted  to  look  at  the  same  spot  for  a  considerable  period. 


136  UNKNOWN   KENT 

After  all,  it  is  no  business  of  mine.  I  pretended  to  be  asleep, 
and  so  they  had  a  certain  amount  of  chance.  However,  I 
think  if  I  had  been  Brown,  I  would  have  dropped  the  map 
business  and  taken  her  into  the  rose  garden  to  look  for 
orchids. 

After  an  interval  of  something  like  half  an  hour,  great 
activity  seemed  to  reign  in  Brown's  archaeological  department. 
He,  himself,  was  crawling  about  on  his  hands  and  knees  like  a 
sleuth  hound,  bending  over  the  map  and  making  excited  dabs 
at  it.  Betty  was  wildly  borrowing  pins  from  Eve  and  making 
them  into  little  red  flags.  These  flags  Brown  stuck  all  over 
the  map  with  bits  of  crimson  paper.  Scylla  and  Charibdis 
substituted  their  hunt  for  butterflies  into  a  hunt  for  pins,  and 
we  all  woke  up  and  gathered  round. 

At  first  I  thought  Brown  had  discovered  a  new  menace 
to  the  safety  of  the  realm,  for  his  array  of  red  flags  looked  like 
an  army  taking  up  a  position  along  the  ragstone  hills  from 
Ashford  to  Sevenoaks ;  possibly  a  line  of  defence  against  some 
attack  from  the  Weald  to  the  south  of  it.  His  excitement, 
however,  was  so  great  that  the  attack  must  have  been  coming 
off  this  very  afternoon  and  England  was  totally  unprepared. 

He  pounced  upon  a  straight  line  of  flags  and  whistled  to 
himself. 

"  Another,"  he  muttered.    "  Chartway  Street." 

"  That's  only  a  mile  away  from  here,"  said  Betty. 

"  Cock  Street,"  added  Brown,  sticking  another  flag  into 
the  line. 

Brown  looked  up  and  saw  us  standing  in  a  semicircle, 


THE   LOST  ROAD  OF   KENT  137 

looking  down  somewhat  puzzled  at  the  map  with  its  array 
of  war  flags.     He  read  off  names  with  great  enthusiasm. 

11  What  more  do  you  want  ? '  he  exclaimed ;  "  Lympne, 
Coldharbour,  Stonestreet  Green,  Flood  Street,  Great  Chart, 
Ford,  Rooting  Street,  Little   Chart,  Liverton  Street,  North 

T.  &R€*T   QWRT 


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^    O  COUOH*Rftoy« 

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iTR££T  - 

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FiG.    I. 


Street,  and  Roman  Cemetery — and  so  on  to  Plaxtol  by 
Sevenoaks." 

"  But  what's  it  all  about  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Thornhill. 

Brown  stood  up.  "  We  have  discovered,"  he  said  with 
an  air  of  finality,  "a  Roman  road.  It  is  the  lost  road  of 
Kent." 

I  thought  it  was  very  nice  of  Brown  to  say  we,  including 


138  UNKNOWN   KENT 

Betty  as  partner  in  the  great  discovery,  although  she  had 
merely  provided  and  manufactured  multitudinous  little  red 
flags.  I  think,  too,  Brown  deserves  tremendous  credit  in 
getting  on  with  any  archaeological  research  at  all  under  the 
circumstances.  A  frightfully  pretty  girl  sitting  on  the  ground 
alongside  a  man,  with  her  cheek  practically  touching  his,  is 
not  generally  conducive  to  his  clear  thinking. 

"  Hilaire  Belloc,"  continued  Brown,  "  says  in  writing  of 
Kent,  that  he  can  find  no  trace  of  a  Roman  road  south  of  the 
Watling  Street.  What  he  means  by  trace,  I  don't  know.  If 
he  means  actual  sections  of  road  revealing  an  undoubted 
Roman  origin  I  expect  he  is  quite  right,  but  there  is  a  good 
deal  of  evidence  in  the  names  of  places.  It  is  unlikely  that 
there  were  any  made  roads  at  all  in  the  Weald  in  Roman 
times,  although  it  seems  that  in  the  south  iron  was  worked. 
All  this  country  was  an  impenetrable  tangle  of  forest;  but 
on  the  northern  side  of  this  tract,  along  the  ridge  of  hill,  one 
would  expect  to  find  some  traces  of  a  road. 

"  Now  in  the  heart  of  the  Weald  you  will  find  few  place- 
names  indicating  possibly  Roman  occupation,  such  as  Street, 
Chart,  Coldharbour,  etc.  ;  but  there  are  many  on  the  ragstone 
hills.  In  order  to  demonstrate  this,  I  stuck  pins  wherever 
I  could  find  any  name  that  might  have  some  connection  with 
Roman  occupation.  Coldharbour  is  generally  considered 
evidence  of  the  Romans.  It  is  a  name  constantly  occurring 
on  known  Roman  roads.  I  should  say  rather  the  name 
Coldharbour  stands  for  the  thing  which  was  Roman,  by  some, 
thought  to  be  a  shelter  for  camping,  like  a  hut  in  the  Alps. 


THE   LOST  ROAD   OF   KENT  139 

The  derivation  from  the  French  col  d'arbres  has  been  suggested, 
a  hill  of  trees.  These  camping  places  were  often  at  prominent 
places  where  a  plantation  of  trees  would  show  up,  hence  the 
word,  if  this  be  the  correct  derivation.  Some  doubt,  however, 
has  been  thrown  on  this  derivation  as  in  the  north  of  England 
similar  sites  are  sometimes  named  windy  arbour.  The  word 
Street,  in  a  country  place,  often  tells  of  Roman  work,  and  Chart, 
the  Latin  charta,  a  grant  or  charter  of  land,  sometimes  takes  us 
back  to  days  Roman,  although  it  might  also  be  a  name  relic 
of  Norman  times.  In  a  Saxon  document  concerning  some  land 
near  Canterbury  in  760  a.d.  the  name  Chart  (spelt  Cert)  is 
referred  to  as  an  old  name  and  thus  many  of  these  Charts  are 
evidently  Roman.  For  the  first  period  after  the  Roman 
withdrawal  from  Britain  the  Saxons  were  hard  put  to  it  to 
maintain  the  existing  Roman  strongholds  and  ways,  and  were 
very  unlikely  to  have  built  new  towns.  The  fact  that  a 
place  is  referred  to  (in  760  a.d.)  as  '  known  as  cert '  is  strongly 
in  favour  of  it  being  of  Roman  origin.  Individually,  there  may 
be  no  evidence  of  things  Roman  because  of  these  names,  but 
collectively  the  position  of  these  names  on  the  map  is  striking. 
Assuming  that  a  good  many  have  no  name-place  significance 
there  is  still  remarkable  coincidence  of  such  places  arranged 
in  a  straight  line  from  Lympne  towards  Maidstone,  in  fact, 
roughly  a  route  more  or  less  parallel  to  the  Watling  Street. 

M  When  the  pins  were  all  in  place,  as  you  can  see,  the 
inference  is  evident.  If  there  is  anything  at  all  in  these 
names  let  us  follow  the  course  they  indicate.  Beginning  at 
Lympne,  where  Stone  Street  comes  down  from  Canterbury 


140  UNKNOWN   KENT 

we  have  first  Coldharbour  and  Court  at  Street,  then  Stonestreet 
Green,  then  Flood  Street,  and  by  continuing  in  a  straight  line 
north-west,  strike  Great  Chart  at  a  place  on  the  stream  marked 
Ford.  Continuing  for  about  a  mile  we  pass  a  place  higher  up 
on  the  left  named  Upper  Coldharbour,  and  then  come  to 
Rooting  Street  at  Little  Chart.  A  continuation  of  this  straight 
line  would  lead  us  into  swampy  ground  abounding  in  streams 
likely  to  be  easily  flooded.  About  two  miles  to  the  north  of 
this  point,  however,  by  Charing  is  Swan  Street." 

14  Assuming,"  Brown  went  on,  "•  this  change  of  direction,  of 
which  the  evidence  is  purely  guesswork,  and  starting  off  again 
from  Swan  Street  in  a  straight  line  nearly  due  west  we  find 
a  remarkable  series  of  names.  About  two  miles  on  is  Water 
Street,  two  miles  further,  Liverton  Street,  and  then  another 
two  and  a  half  miles  and  we  are  at  Chartway  Street,  a  doubly 
significant  name.  Then  the  corner  of  North  Street  with  its 
Roman  Cemetery  just  by  the  school  here  at  Sutton  Valence." 

We  all  provided  ourselves  with  data  to  follow  the  argument. 
One  of  the  advantages  of  staying  with  the  Thornhills  is  an 
unlimited  supply  of  maps. 

I  have  since  looked  up  what  it  was  that  Mr.  Hilaire  Belloc 
did  write  in  case  Brown  had  misquoted  him  and  find  the  follow- 
ing in  The  King's  Highway ,  December,  1919,  in  an  article 
entitled  '  The  Roman  Roads/  "  What  is  interesting,  is  that 
the  road  westward  out  of  Canterbury  has  been  lost ;  I  think  lost 
entirely.  It  would  be  of  the  highest  interest  to  recover  it,  for 
it  must  have  formed  the  link  between  Kent  and  Sussex  and  the 
lateral  communication  of  the  South,  but  I  have  never  heard  any 


THE  LOST  ROAD   OF   KENT  141 

evidence    to    re-establish    it,    and    I    do    not    know    of    any 
remains." 

I  have  also  verified  Brown's  statement  (page  142)  that 
parish  boundaries  are  strong  evidence  in  looking  for  a  lost 
Roman  road.  Here  is  an  extract  from  the  well-known 
authority  on  the  subject,  Codrington,  in  his  Roman  Roads  in 
Britain. 

"It  is  well  known  that  the  ridges  of  Roman  roads  were 
often  made  the  boundary  between  parishes  and  townships  ; 
and  boundaries  follow  roads  which  are  certainly  Roman  for 
many  miles  together.  On  Watling  Street,  south  of  London, 
from  Midbrook  over  Shooter's  Hill,  and  through  Dartford, 
parish  boundaries  run  along  seven  and  a  half  out  of  twelve 
miles,  and  on  the  north  of  London  parish  boundaries  follow 
Watling  Street  along  the  Edgware  Road  continuously  for 
five  miles,  from  Oxford  Street  to  the  river  Brent,  and  again 
for  two  miles  after  an  interval  of  one  and  a  half  miles,  or 
for  seven  out  of  eight  and  a  half  miles." 

We  made  Brown  keep  quiet  for  a  time  and  studied  the 
country  furiously.  He  was  not  going  to  have  it  all  his  own 
way ;  Mrs.  Thornhill  and  Eve  started  a  rival  theory  of  the  lost 
road.  They  contended  that  it  obviously  did  nothing  so  silly  as 
altering  its  course  to  the  north,  but  kept  away  from  the 
stream  (the  Great  Stour)  on  higher  ground  and  marched  nearly 
straight  to  Chartway  Street. 

I  have  shown  the  rival  theories  in  Fig.  2,  marking  Brown's 
road  as  A,  and  Mrs.  Thornhill's  as  B.  I  then  chipped  in 
myself  with  a  theory,  and  taking  a  cautious  eclectic  line, 


142  UNKNOWN   KENT 

borrowing  points  from  either  side,  proving  that  they  were 
both  probably  right.  No  doubt  the  Romans  had  tried  Brown's 
road,  but,  finding  that  the  Great  Stour  in  winter  kept  the  whole 
place  under  water,  got  fed  up  with  it.  They  named  part  of  it 
Rotten  Street  or  Rotting  Street  (hence  Rooting),  another 
part  Swan  Street  because  only  aquatic  birds  could  use  it,  and 
another  section  Water  Street  for  obvious  reasons. 

Then  they  hit  on  the  idea  of  using  Mrs.  ThornhnTs  road  as 
an  alternative.  Edging  away  to  the  west  a  little,  on  firmer 
and  higher  ground,  they  made  a  fresh  start,  and  called  it  New 
Street,  through  Upper  Coldharbour,  as  Lower  Coldharbour  was 
under  water,  past  Dowle  Street,  crossing  a  stream  at  one  point 
only,  Stonebridge,  to  Chartway  Street.  I  have  not  as  yet 
received  any  recognition  from  the  Royal  Society  for  thus 
harmonizing  the  two  sides  of  the  Brown-Thornhill  contro- 
versy, but  it  was  voted  as  jolly  good  by  everybody.  Having 
safely  arrived  at  Chartway  Street  in  complete  harmony 
we  continued  to  sit  at  Brown's  feet. 

"  A  large  scale  map  is  now  very  instructive,"  continued 
Brown,  producing  two  sheets  (Kent,  sheet  LIIL,  N.W.,  and 
Kent,  sheet  LIL,  N.E.),  now  quite  excited  in  following  his 
argument. 

"  It  is  a  well-known  rule,"  continued  Brown,  "  when  hunting 
for  the  position  of  Roman  roads  to  pay  great  attention  to 
parish  boundaries,  as  often  the  road  was  the  division  between 
two  parishes.  To  the  west  of  Chartway  Street,  the  road  and 
the  parish  boundary  run  together  and  then  by  Chart  Corner 
we  come,  a  mile  further  on,  to  Cock  Street.    Now  it  does  not 


THE   LOST  ROAD   OF   KENT 


143 


follow  that  where  the  present  road  coincides  with  a  Roman 
road  that  the  track  is  exactly  the  same.  In  many  cases  the 
old  Roman  work  was  used  as  a  quarry  for  material  for  making 
the  more  modern  road,  and  in  many  cases  also  local  con- 


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siderations  had  arisen  to  make  it  desirable  to  take  the  road 
along  a  slightly  different  bit  of  country  near.  About  700  yards 
west  of  the  cross  roads  at  Cock  Street  and  about  300  yards 
south  of  the  school  is  the  boundary  stone  at  the  corner  of  the 
parish  of  Linton.     The  road  is  almost  dead  straight  as  we 


144 


UNKNOWN   KENT 


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FIG.    3. 


proceed  west.  Parallel  to  it  and  at  a  short  distance  from  it 
is  this  parish  boundary  of  Linton.  It  is  at  this  zone  of  the 
road  that  trenching  would  be  most  likely  to  succeed.  I  mean 
the  digging  of  a  trench  at  right  angles  to  the  supposed  site  of 
the  road  so  that  we  could  find  any  traces  of  a  causeway  that 
might  be  there,  although  it  is  quite  possible  that  this  way, 
being  on  firm  ground,  might  never  have  been  metalled.  For 
a  distance  at  Cox  Heath  it  coincides  with  the  road,  as  does 
the  boundary  of  Hunton  which  continues  it.  For  nearly  five 
miles  these  parish  boundaries  either  run  very  near  or  actually 
coincide  with  the  road.  Then  the  road  goes  off  at  a  tangent 
by  Quarry  Wood,  but  the  parish  boundary  continues  in  the 
direction  of  the  Medway  and  Wateringbury." 


OF 


FIG    4. 


THE   LOST   ROAD   OF   KENT 


*45 


"  Here,"  said  Brown,  with  a  certain  amount  of  pride. 
"  my  pet  lost  road  of  Kent  vanishes  for  want  of  evidence  and 
probably  because  of  the  river  crossing.  However,  it  is  last 
seen  making  straight  for  Plaxtol,  which  is  five  miles  further 
on  and  rich  in  Roman  remains. 


WONTON 


STREET 

■*QMW*  CEMETERY 
ii 

SUTTON  VftUEKCt 


FIG.    5. 

Like  one  man  we  all  joined  up  and  put  ourselves  at  Brown's 
disposal  as  auxiliaries  in  the  discovery  of  Roman  roads.  We 
would  start  at  once.  Never,  since  the  great  day,  or  rather, 
night,  when  Brown  led  us  from  Rochester  on  our  pilgrimage 
to  Canterbury  had  there  been  so  much  enthusiasm. 


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A*>    FRo^   CB=-=  l^=--=iBD  BUT    For    jftKE.  OF 
CUE«RN£Si.    HAS    BE£N     PLXEO      ^ust     iOJTrt 

or    |TS     COURSE 


FIG.   6. 


146 


UNKNOWN   KENT 


Tea  was  a  meal  symbolic  of  impending  action.  With 
staves  in  our  hands,  and  with  our  loins  girded,  did  we  eat. 
We  took  few  provisions  for  the  journey  and  we  made  no  plans. 

It  was  sufficient  that  we  were  about  to  startle  the  archaeo- 
logical world  with  our  discoveries,  and  so,  with  a  small  car 
grossly  overloaded  as  means  of  transport,  we  started  out  from 
Sutton  Valence  at  5  p.m.  in  the  direction  of  Chartway  Street 


GABLES   AT    YALDING. 


XI 
THE  AMATEUR  ARCHAEOLOGISTS 


■<.  <3F%r<\ 


■  n 


SUTTON  VALENCE. 


1J\. 


THE  AMATEUR  ARCHAEOLOGISTS 

THE  pursuit  of  a  Roman  road  on  a  map  has  many  advan- 
tages over  the  method  of  outdoor  exploration.  A  false 
scent  does  not  entail  much  delay  and  the  general  directions  of 
bits  of  road  are  so  much  clearer  on  paper  than  in  places  where 
buildings,  hills,  and  trees  can  interrupt  the  view.  A  com- 
parison, for  instance,  between  the  rival  claims  of  Brown's 
road  and  Mrs.  ThornhnTs  can  be  made  in  a  few  minutes  on  a 
large  scale  map,  but  when  we  came  to  run  over  the  ground  in 
our  much  overloaded  car  we  could  make  very  little  of  it. 
Hedges,  clumps  of  bushes,  and  all  sorts  of  things  not  apparent 


150  UNKNOWN   KENT 

on  the  map  rendered  the  verification  of  our  theories  lengthy, 
difficult,  and  often  impossible.  After  a  few  hours  of  it  we 
retraced  our  way  to  Chartway  Street.  From  this  place, 
travelling  west,  the  road  is  the  northern  boundary  of  East 
Sutton.  After  half  a  mile  we  came  to  a  kink  and  continued, 
the  road  still  forming  the  parish  boundary  for  another  three- 
quarters  of  a  mile. 

Mrs.  Thornhill  and  Eve  strongly  objected  to  this  kink. 
Well-behaved  Roman  roads  did  not  go  in  for  kinks,  except 
in  very  unusual  circumstances,  as  in  the  case  of  Stone  Street 
from  Lympne  to  Canterbury. 

We  all  developed  the  gravest  doubts  about  Brown's  road 
and  felt  that  Brown  would  have  to  look  out  with  such  keen 
critics  around  him.  We  would  not  be  put  off  with  airy 
generalizations.  If  this  were  indeed  the  track  of  a  Roman  road 
which  had  also  been  the  parish  boundary,  how  did  Brown 
explain  the  kink  ?  There  was  no  reason  for  it,  such  as  the 
steep  hill  in  Stone  Street  near  Lympne.  There  was  no 
doubt  about  it,  Brown  had  been  going  a  little  too  far,  trying 
to  palm  off  a  road  on  us  with  insufficient  evidence. 

He  made  a  spirited  defence,  however,  and  introduced  a  new 
theory.  It  was  to  the  effect  that  when  a  Roman  road  was  also 
a  parish  boundary  there  would  be  comparatively  few  boundary 
stones  along  its  course.  In  subsequent  years  a  later  road,  for 
various  reasons,  would  not  follow  it  exactly,  hence  numerous 
bends  and  turns  for  purely  local  reasons  Thus  the  parish 
boundary,  still  reckoned  by  the  road,  would  cease  to  be  straight ; 
but  the  fixed  points  might  still  be  in  a  straight  line.     To 


THE  AMATEUR  ARCH/EOLOGISTS 


151 


*»v« 


C0CJ7OOK. 


»©wf< 


FIG.  7. 


illustrate  this  he  took  a  sheet  of  a  large  scale  map  (Kent, 
sheet  LIIL,  N.W.),  and  proceeded  to  mark  off  the  existing 
boundary  stones,  five  in  number,  along  the  northern  limit  of 
the  parish  of  East  Sutton.  The  effect  was  startling  when  he 
ruled  a  line  through  four  of  them.  They  were  dead  straight 
in  spite  of  the  road's  winding  course.  In  Fig.  8  you  can  see 
it  for  yourself.  Two  of  these  boundary  stones  are  left  out, 
falling  out  of  alignment  to  the  south.  This,  Brown  explained, 
was  probably  because  they  were  markings  of  later  date  made 
at  points  where  the  parish  boundary  crossed  the  present 
road  and  was,  after  all,  not  at  the  corner  like  stone  A.  He 
held  that,  if  his  theory  of  the  track  of  the  Roman  road  is 
right,  the  points  XX  would  have  probably  been  the  original 
boundary. 

The  space,  ABCX  in  Fig.  8,  is  certainly  a  very  curious 
one.  If  the  road  ever  ran  from  the  boundary  stone  at  A  to 
the  one  at  D  as  surmised,  then  it  is  natural  to  expect  the 


152  UNKNOWN   KENT 

boundary  FC  to  have  ended  with  the  road  at  X.  When  the 
later  road  was  made  to  curve  down  at  BCD  the  whole  space 
ABCD  would  be  included  in  the  northern  parish.  In  the 
next  diagram  this  course  of  conjectured  road  is  extended  by 
dotted  line  to  Chart  Corner.  Note  that  this  piece  of  country 
is  right  at  the  top  of  the  ridge.  I  have  indicated  the  400 
foot  contour  on  either  side  (Fig.  7). 

I  nearly  launched  out  with  a  discovery  of  my  own.  Brown 
had  apparently  not  noticed  that  the  second  turning  to  the 
left  after  Chartway  Street  is  named  Friday  Street.  Had 
it  not  been  getting  so  late  in  the  day  I  should  probably  have 
evolved  an  entirely  fresh  Roman  road  running  south  from 
this  point  to  Wheeler's  Street,  some  four  miles  on,  by  Headcom, 
and  ended  up  with  great  feasibility  at  a  farm  about  a  mile 
further  on  bearing  the  name  Cold  Harbour;  but  I  thought 
better  of  it.  I  did  not  expect,  knowing  Brown,  we  should 
any  of  us  get  home  to-night,  as  it  was,  and  one  Roman  road 
was  quite  enough  at  a  time. 

WTe  all  declared  our  conversion  to  Brown's  reasoning,  and 
passed  a  sort  of  informal  vote  of  confidence  in  his  leader- 
ship, pursuing  our  quest  with  renewed  vigour.  We  stopped 
and  consulted  the  map  again.  A  curious  thing  now  becomes 
apparent.  There  are  two  roads,  almost  parallel,  some  200 
to  300  yards  apart.  The  lower  road  runs  for  a  mile  and  a 
quarter  and  then  turns  at  right  angles,  northwards,  to  the  five 
cross  roads  at  Cock  Street.  From  Cock  Street,  for  over  two 
miles,  there  is  a  perfectly  straight  run  of  road  with  one  very 
slight  change  of  direction  for  over  four  miles.    But  note  this, 


rv?j£^ 


* 


»  on 


THE  MEDWAY  AT  YALDING 


«    t    •   • 


THE   AMATEUR  ARCHAEOLOGISTS 


153 


FIG.  8. 


that  if  a  line  be  projected  straight  on  at  this  right-angle  turn 
of  the  lower  road  to  Cock  Street  we  jump  across  a  distance 
of  1000  yards  and  find  ourselves  on  the  parish  boundary  of 
Linton,  exactly  200  yards  south  of  this  straight  piece  of  the 
modern  road  and  keep  straight  on  parish  boundaries  for  four 
and  a  half  miles,  following  the  modern  road  or  coinciding  with 
it  until  it  ends  abruptly  in  a  road  running  at  right  angles.  But, 
wonderful  to  relate,  when  this  road  unaccountably  changes 
its  direction  the  parish  boundary  goes  straight  on  into  Quarry 
Wood,  aiming  for  a  point  on  the  river  by  Nettlestead  where  the 
50  foot  contour  lines  on  each  side  of  the  Medway  are  barely 
200  yards  apart. 

We  felt  now  that  the  Roman  road  could  not  possibly 
escape  us  and  tore  onwards,  much  exceeding  the  speed  limit 
and  causing  considerable  astonishment  to  the  other  road 
motorists,  who  did  not  know  that  we  were  makers  of  history 
and  consequently  not  to  be  judged  by  ordinary  standards. 


154  UNKNOWN   KENT 

When  we  reached  the  T  corner  by  Quarry  Wood  we  turned  to 
the  left  and  then  to  the  right  again,  coming  out  on  the  crest 
of  the  hill  above  Yalding,  looking  down  on  a  magnificent 
panorama  of  the  Weald  of  Kent.  To  the  right,  lay  the  distant 
chalk  hills  along  which  runs  the  Pilgrim's  Way,  and  ahead  of 
us  the  narrow  neck  of  valley  where  the  Medway  passes 
Nettlestead.  We  called  a  halt  and  rested  for  a  while. 
Some  giants  were  moving  to  and  fro  among  the  poles, 
training  up  the  vines  or  mending  damaged  strings.  I  think  it 
will  be  well  to  give  a  sketch,  made  earlier  in  the  year,  of  these 
supermen  at  "  stringing/ '  and  incidentally  to  write  something 
about  hops  for  the  benefit  of  the  vistor  to  Kent. 

Most  people's  interest  in  hops  begins  and  ends  with  beer. 
The  denizens  of  East  London,  however,  have  an  annual 
experience  of  country  life  on  their  own  account,  when  whole 
families  go  a-picking.  Yet  in  Kent,  "  a  land  of  hops  and 
poppy-mingled  corn/'  the  interest  in  hops  is  a  perpetual  one, 
for  these  vineyards  of  the  north,  as  they  may  be  called,  need 
work  upon  them  for  the  whole  round  of  the  year. 

As  soon  as  the  picking  is  over — in  the  case  of  late  varieties, 
not  till  October — the  land  must  be  turned  and  manured.  It 
is  sometimes  ploughed,  but  this  is  rare,  as  the  poles  and  wires 
make  all  sorts  of  difficulties.  Then  the  roots  of  the  vines  are 
pruned.  In  April  the  shoots,  thin  reddish  tendrils,  can  be 
seen  pushing  their  way  up  through  the  earth. 

There  are  many  methods  of  training  the  vines,  all  variants 
of  arrangements  with  poles,  wire,  and  strings.  The  poles  are 
from  twelve  to  sixteen  feet  high,  and  "  stringing/'  as  well  as 


THE   GIANTS   OF  YALDING. 


156  UNKNOWN   KENT 

numerous  other  operations,  necessitate  the  use  of  stilts.  The 
effect  of  giants  striding  about  among  the  poles,  as  shown  here 
on  the  ridge  above  Yalding,  is  curious  and  startling.  The 
performance,  as  may  be  imagined,  requires  no  little  skill,  and 
is  irresistibly  reminiscent  of  a  music-hall  turn. 

The  alternative  to  this  high-level  performance  is  the 
placing  of  a  ladder  against  the  hops,  and  a  continual  descending, 
moving,  and  ascending  again — a  process  in  a  day's  work  which 
becomes  far  more  tiring  than  the  difficult  walking  progress 
which  is  shown  here. 

The  hop- vine  is  a  prodigious  grower,  averaging  something 
like  a  foot  a  week,  or  one-sixteenth  of  an  inch  per  hour,  and 
taking  about  five  months  to  reach  maturity.  During  this 
period  it  is  attacked  by  insects,  and  incessant  war  is  waged 
between  the  cultivator  and  the  aphis,  a  small  green  fly.  To 
get  rid  of  this  pest,  a  solution  of  soft  soap  and  water  is  sprayed 
on  the  plants  from  a  hose,  either  by  means  of  a  horse  machine 
that  sprays  automatically  in  all  directions  as  it  travels  along, 
or  by  a  tank  on  wheels,  with  hand  pump,  which  supplies  hoses 
to  be  directed  by  workers  among  the  vines.  It  is  generally 
said  that  hops  are  behaving  themselves  properly  when  they 
reach  the  top  of  the  poles  by  the  longest  day. 

When  the  hops  are  picked  they  are  taken  and  placed  in 
the  oast-houses,  which  are  kilns  for  the  purpose  of  curing  the 
hops.  An  open  grid  floor  of  wood  is  built  across  the  structure, 
and  on  this  is  stretched  a  horsehair  carpet  to  keep  the  hops 
from  being  burnt.  A  fire  is  kindled  underneath,  and  the 
smoke,  which  will  contain  a  certain  amount  of  sulphur,  will 


THE  AMATEUR  ARCHAEOLOGISTS 


157 


have  the  effect  of  killing  any  insect  life  and  giving  the  hops  a 
golden-brown  colour.  Nice  coloured  hops,  like  brown  eggs, 
are  more  saleable  commodities  than  poor  coloured  ones,  but 
it  is  doubtful  whether  there  is  any  great  virtue  really  in  the 
exact  colour  of  either.     The  hops,  during  this  process,  are 


-^ 


FIG.  9. 


turned  by  men  with  wooden  shovels,  to  ensure  the  proper 
curing  of  every  part  of  them. 

I  cannot  claim  to  be  one  of  those  who  would  be  very  hard 
hit  if  this  country  were  to  go  dry,  but  I  do  feel  that  the  beer 
of  old  England  is  the  cause  of  much  that  is  picturesque  in  our 
country-side — the  woodland  clearings,  where  the  poles  axe 


158 


UNKNOWN   KENT 


being  barked  and  tipped  with  creosote,  the  green  avenues  of 
a  clustering  hop  garden — especially  when  they  border  a  river , 
and  the  quaint  oast-houses,  "  bosomed  high  in  tufted  trees.'' 
The  world  of  Kent  and  Sussex  would  lose  much  of  its  character 
were  it  without  these  things. 

Of  the  many  varieties  of  hops  the  three  principal  groups 
are  Prolific,  the  earliest  to  mature,  ready  to  be  picked  by  the 
end  of  August,  Goldings,  ready  in  the  month  of  September, 
and  Colegates,  the  latest  to  ripen,  and  often  picked  as  late  as 
October.  Growers  often  arrange  to  have  different  kinds  so 
that  the  picking  period  is  spread  over  some  weeks,  and  the 
number  of  pickers  required  simultaneously  is  less. 


BY   TWYFORD    BRIDGE,    YALDING. 


THE   AMATEUR  ARCHAEOLOGIST 


159 


A   RIVERSIDE   HOP   GARDEN. 


We  rallied  our  forces  and  proceeded  on  our  quest,  but 
after  Quarry  Wood  there  seemed  to  be  little  evidence  to 
be  deduced  from  anything  except  that  the  general  direction 
the  road  had  been  taking  was  an  opportune  one  for  the 
crossing  of  the  river  at  a  point  where  a  very  narrow  neck  of 
valley  gave  good  opportunity  for  a  ferry  with  dry  banks, 
unliable  to  flood,  facing  each  other  across  a  narrow  strip  of 
lowland  skirting  the  river. 

Fig.  9  will  serve  to  illustrate  the  problem.  I  have  shown 
the  contours.  Brown  insisted  on  my  drawing  an  arrow  in 
continuation  of  the  line  we  have  taken.     It  leads  towards 


i6o 


UNKNOWN   KENT 


Plaxtol  and  keeps  more  or  less  hobnobbing  with  parish 
boundaries.  I  think  myself  that  the  ascent  at  Nettlestead, 
if  this  straight  line  were  rigidly  adhered  to,  would  be  rather  too 
steep,  even  for  the  Romans,  but  there  is  no  reason  why  the 
line  should  not  be  broken,  especially  at  a  ferry.  There  are 
plenty  of  instances  of  Roman  roads  winding  up  and  down  hills, 
and  sometimes  following  the  crests  of  a  ridge  in  order  to  keep 
to  the  same  level.  If  you  will  look  on  the  map  (Fig.  9)  and 
measure  off  a  distance  of  half  an  inch  to  the  right  of  Nettle - 
stead  Church,  you  will  find  a  boundary  stone  marked  with  a 
dot.  To  the  right  of  this  mark,  if  you  will  measure  three- 
quarters  of  an  inch  again,  you  will  find  another. 

The  dotted  line  shows  the  present  boundary  coinciding 
with  the  present  road. 

But  let  us  suppose,  for  the  sake  of  argument,  that  the 
boundary  stones  are  old  marks  and  the  road  has  been  taken 
in  a  curve  to  avoid  the  steepness  of  the  rise,  which  the  Romans 
never  seemed  to  mind,  you  will  notice  that  the  stones  exactly 

follow  the  straight  line 
of  our  conjectural  road. 
With  a  large  scale 
map  you  will  find  that 
this  section  of  road, 
where  there  are  no  houses 
and  where  no  village  has 
ever  been,  still  bears  the 
name  of  Hunt  Street. 
When   we    had   dis- 


RATS    CASTLE, 
NEAR    MEREWORTH. 


THE  AMATEUR  ARCHAEOLOGISTS 


161 


fair    Rosamond's    bower,' 

HANGER. 


VVESTEN- 


covered  this  fact  we  gave 
a  vigorous  cheer  and  pro- 
ceeded, after  crossing  the 
river  by  the  bridge  at  Water- 
ingbury,  to  locate  another 
boundary  stone  (showing 
here  on  the  left  of  Fig.  9). 

I  have  not  space  here  to 
go  into  details  about  Mere- 
worth  and  West  Peckham, 
but  give  a  small  sketch  of 
an  old  house  rejoicing  in  the 
name  of  Rats  Castle.  There  are  many  houses  in  Kent 
bearing  this  curious  name,  which  is  generally  supposed  to 
have  been  given  in  derision  because  of  centuries  of  neglect. 

There  is  another  name,  Spider's  Castle,  which  seems  to 
justify  this  derivation.  I  am  unskilled,  as  I  have  said  before, 
in  these  place-name  problems,  but  I  wonder  whether  the 
Saxons  brought  with  them  the  word  Rath,  as  in  the  German 
Rathaus. 

Well,  to  end  the  story  of  the  great  discovery.  Night  fell 
and  we  became  less  and  less  scientific,  until  we  reached 
Oldbury  Camp  via  Plaxtol.  The  urgent  need  for  food  made 
us  decide  without  controversy  that  this  was  as  far  as  we 
need  go.  Let  others  carry  on  the  work.  We  at  least  had 
done  our  bit ;  so  we  ordered  everything  that  could  be  obtained 
at  the  local  inn  and  fell  to.  We  were  convinced  that  this 
Lost  Road,  now  found,  could  take  care  of  itself. 


M 


l62 


UNKNOWN   KENT 


There  is  many  a  true  word  spoken  in  jest.  Although  I 
have  told  the  tale  of  our  amateur  quest  with  all  its  crudities 
and  uncritical  enthusiasm,  I  submit  that  the  evidence, 
much  of  which  is  put  forward  for  the  first  time,  is  of  im- 
portance and  in  the  hands  of  a  trained  archaeologist  might 
lead  to  definite  results.  Evidence  is  evidence,  whether  arrived 
at  by  a  ludicrous  or  a  serious  method  of  collection. 

Although  on  Stone  Street  and  off  the  track  of  our  con- 
jectured road,  I  have  sketched  the  picturesque  remains  of 
Westenhanger  Castle  near  Lmypne,  and  by  Brown's  special 
request  included  Fair  Rosamond's  Bower  (traditional),  a  ruin 
which  is  probably  some  300  years  too  late  to  have  acted  in  so 
romantic  a  capacity.  This  same  tower  shows  to  the  left  of 
the  barn-like  building  sketched  below. 


mf^s    4ri     -•*? 


-*©. 


WESTENHANGER   CASTLE. 


XII 
THE  SEVEN  ISLANDS  OF  KENT 


W«G«TE 


RA/viSGrATE 


"THE 


?UNG€NE35 


HftSTltfGrS 


6.   &RAIN  7.     SURNTWKK 

iN&'tATES     'ROUT6.    T»*e.N     fc\   3HIPJ     FftofA. 

Ucnoo/v   to   -me.  t>ow^  :  «us*  chk^nei-s   "<to 

~TH£    WEALD    KEAft  TEMTeRDE^ 


THE5EVEH    fSLftNDS    OF    K6-N*? 


MINSTER  IN  SHEPPEY. 


THE  SEVEN  ISLANDS  OF  KENT 

IN  the  early  Middle  Ages,  a  ship  setting  sail  from  London 
would  have  been  able  to  make  an  inland  voyage  nearly 
as  far  as  Deal,  and  then  wait  a  favourable  opportunity  to  slip 
across  to  France.  Ships  were  comparatively  small  craft 
then,  not,  in  fact,  very  different  in  calibre  to  the  sailing  barges 
that  still  use  the  only  part  of  this  route  still  navigable — the 
Swale,  which  divides  Sheppey  from  the  mainland  of  Kent. 

A  glance  at  the  map  will  show  how  this  sheltered  cruise 
was  made.  The  dotted  line  represents  the  sea-route  as  it 
was  then.  Keeping  a  course  inside  the  Isle  of  Grain,  entering 
the  estuary  by  the  now  much-narrowed  inlet  known  as  Yantlet 


166  UNKNOWN   KENT 

Creek,  a  vessel  would  keep  across  the  wide  waters  of  the 
Medway,  through  the  region  now  known  as  Chetney  Marshes, 
then  open  water,  and  take  the  course  inside  Sheppey.  This 
course  was  more  or  less  where  the  Swale  now  lies,  emerging 
by  Whitstable.  In  those  days  the  land  beyond  Warden 
Point  stretched  out  several  miles,  and  it  is  probable  that  many 
of  the  banks  ending  in  the  shoals  now  known  as  Margate 
Hook  and  Margate  Sands  were  marshes  and  saltings.  Thus 
sheltered  water  would  extend  to  Reculvers,  where  the  broad 
estuary  of  the  Wantsum  cut  off  the  Isle  of  Thanet. 

Coming  out  by  Sandwich  into  the  Stour,  which  then 
flowed  into  the  sea  near  Deal,  and  not,  as  it  does  now,  by 
Pegwell  Bay,  there  only  remained  some  thirty  miles  of  open 
sea  before  reaching  the  coast  of  France.  But  first  of  all  let 
us  set  out  a  list  of  the  Kentish  islands.     Here  they  are — 

Oxney 

Thanet 

Sheppey 

Harty 

Elmley 

Grain 

Burntwick. 

Oxney,  now  an  island  only  in  name  and  surrounded  on 
all  sides  by  a  level  tract  of  rich,  green  pasture  land,  was  an 
island,  in  fact,  till  the  inning  of  the  marshes  cut  it  off  more  and 
more  from  the  Rother  and  the  sea.  It  reached  its  palmiest 
days   about   the  latter   end   of    Elizabeth's   reign.    Thanet 


THE  SEVEN   ISLANDS  OF   KENT 


167 


approached  nearest  to  the  mainland  at  Sarre,  and  Sarre  Wall, 
on  which  the  road  runs  to-day,  no  doubt  became  a  causeway 
at  the  narrowest  section  known  as  the  Ferry. 

I  should  imagine  an  almost  exact  parallel  to-day  could 
be  found  in  the  road  that  leads  from  the  mainland  to  the 
island  of  Foulness  in  Essex.     A  causeway,  uncovered  at  low 


nh^ES 


7JP-*- 


king's  ferry  bridge. 


water,  makes  a  dry  road,  but  at  high  tide  there  is  sufficient 
depth  to  allow  the  passage  of  barges  or  small  ships. 

I  remember,  during  the  war,  a  horse  and  cart  were  swept 
away  by  a  rising  tide  on  this  causeway,  I  don't  know  under 
what  circumstances.  The  horse  was  drowned,  and  it  was 
thought  locally  that  no  trace  of  either  horse  or  cart  had  been 
found.  I  could  spin  a  yarn,  however,  about  the  sequel. 
It  is  one  of  my  war  stories,  not  so  dull  as  some,  so  I  will  set 
it  out  in  full. 


168  UNKNOWN   KENT 

The  Story  of  the  Imperishable  Horse 

Once  upon  a  time,  when  I  had  temporarily  given  up  being 
an  artist  to  become  a  horribly  handsome  naval  officer,  I  was 
defending  the  shores  of  this  so-called  country  against  the 
ravages  of  the  Germans.  In  order  to  do  this  most  effectively 
I  was  put  in  command  of  a  Motor  Launch  and  given  a  patrol 
on  the  coast  of  Essex  and  a  lot  of  petrol.  Besides  providing 
mild  amusement  to  the  visitors  to  Southend,  who  generally 
referred  to  the  M.  L.  as  a  submarine,  and  mild  excitement 
every  time  she  caught  fire,  we  searched  for  mines,  retrieved 
torpedoes,  salved  seaplanes,  and  delivered  picture  postcards 
to  the  Mouse  light-vessel. 

Now,  one  day  a  signal  was  received  from  a  destroyer  that 
some  wreckage  had  been  sighted  near  Foulness.  Apparently 
it  was  in  water  too  shallow  for  her  to  investigate,  so  the  M.  L. 
was  told  off  to  find  out  what  it  was.  She  could  make  out 
nothing  in  the  failing  light,  but  on  the  next  morning  a  cart 
with  a  dead  horse  harnessed  in  it  appeared  off  the  pier  at 
Southend.     This  was  probably  the  " wreckage' '  referred  to. 

We  salved  the  cart  and  unharnessed  the  dead  horse, 
towing  it  out  to  sea  to  dispose  of  it  as  best  we  could.  We  did 
not  realize  for  a  long  time  how  difficult  this  was  going  to  be. 
We  had  target  practice  at  it  and  riddled  it  with  all  sorts  of 
projectiles.  We  tried  ramming  it,  but  had  to  desist  for  fear 
of  breaking  our  stem.  At  last  we  had  to  make  a  kind  of  big- 
meshed  net  with  cord,  weighted  all  round  with  such  heavy 
objects  as  we  could  find  on  board.    This  seemed  to  do  the 


»•     »        »   •        '  »   •   • 


■>  >         > 

•   •  »      J  . 

»  »  »      »    a 

»  •  »     »  *  » 


A  NOCTURNE  OF  MARGATE  ROADS 


•      c       •      *    t  • 


THE  SEVEN   ISLANDS  OF   KENT 


169 


trick,  and  we  had  the  satis- 
faction of  seeing  the  whole 
thing  thus  weighted  sink  out 
of  sight,  and,  as  we  thought, 
out  of  mind. 

A  few  days  afterwards,  a 
report  from  the  captain  of 
an  incoming  ship  described 
a  floating  mine  with  three 
horns  as  in  the  vicinity  of  ^fh$! 

the  Shivering  Sand.  Actczon 
unleashed  her  hounds  and 
we  tore  over,  great  and  small 
loud  yelling  for  our  prey. 
Of  course  it  proved  to  be 
our  horse.  I  had  to  report 
to  the  Admiralty  the  circum- 
stances of  my  temerity  in  allowing  a  horse  from  Southend  to 
be  there  when  it  had  once  been  in  my  keeping,  dead  or  alive. 
My  instructions  were  to  dispose  of  it.  The  tone  of  the  order 
suggested  that  I  insisted  on  keeping  dead  horses,  in  spite  of 
all  advice  to  the  contrary,  on  purpose  to  cause  confusion 
in  shipping  circles,  a  habit  which  must  be  discontinued 
forthwith. 

Well,  it  is  a  long  story.  We  used  hundredweight  upon 
hundredweight  of  sinkers,  but  nothing  seemed  to  keep  the 
horse  permanently  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea.  It  would  wash 
up  on  a  bank  and  the  surf  would  tear  away  our  netting. 


ALONGSIDE    "  ACT.EOX. 


170 


UNKNOWN   KENT 


Again  and  again  the  horse  turned  up,  although  it  was  not 
apparently  again  reported  to  the  Admiralty. 

Now,  during  the  war,  even  against  an  unscrupulous  foe, 
it  has  been  the  pride  of  every  naval  officer  to  keep  his  hands 


SEA    REACH,   CALM. 


clean.  I  have  to  confess,  however,  that  I  once  hit  below  the 
belt,  not  against  the  enemy,  but,  more  is  the  shame,  against 
a  brother  officer.  Regardless  of  the  awful  responsibility  that 
I  took,  I  ordered  the  horse  to  be  taken  in  tow,  and  against  a 
flood  tide  reached  the  extreme  limits  of  my  patrol  at  high 
water.  Then  the  horse  was  let  go,  and  with  six  hours'  spring 
tide  to  help  it  would  inevitably  be  thrust  well  into  the 


THE  SEVEN   ISLANDS  OF   KENT 


171 


Harwich  patrol.  We  never  heard  of  it  again,  so  it  is  possible 
that  the  great  wrong  that  I  intended  to  do  was  overruled  by 
Providence. 

Each  of  these  seven  Kentish  islands  has  some  particular 
characteristic.     Oxney  I  have  described  elsewhere.     Thanet, 


fcj 


SEA   REACH,    FRESH. 


with  its  proper  seaside  resorts,  might  be  called  the  Island  of 
Holidays.  Sheppey  is  the  Island  of  Flying.  Harty  and 
Elmley  are  now  parts  of  Sheppey,  one  having  a  noticeable 
height  across  the  flat  islands  and  the  other  noted  as  one  of 
the  most  thinly  populated  parishes  in  England.  There  is  a 
story  told  that  the  school  there  boasted  four  pupils,  three  of 
which  were  the  children  of  the  schoolmistress. 


172  UNKNOWN   KENT 


«* 


-*?  **£     J 

THIS  IS  NOT  MEANT  TO  BE  A  COMIC  PICTURE.      IT  SIMPLY  SHOWS  WHAT  CURIOUS 
THINGS    PEOPLE   WILL   DO   FOR   PLEASURE. 


Grain  might  now  be  called  the  home  of  the  seaplane  and 
Burntwick  is  quite  an  upstart,  but  its  war  record  brings  it 
into  line  with  the  proudest  of  Kent's  islands.  I  may  be  a 
prejudiced  person,  as  during  a  great  part  of  the  war  I  was  one 
of  Actceon's  hounds,  and  Burntwick  island,  although  so  small, 
was  part  of  H.M.S.  Actceon.  It  is  a  little  bit  of  "  inned  " 
marsh  and  was  piled  with  nets  and  sweeps  and  depth-charges 
for  the  trawlers  and  drifters  which  swept  the  sea-road  to 
London. 

The  Isle  of  Grain  is  now  an  island  only  in  name.  The  road 
and  the  Hundred  of  Hoo  railway  to  Port  Victoria,  and  the 
general  silting-up  of  the  saltings  and  the  upper  end  of  Yantlet 
Creek  have  hidden  the  fact  that  it  ever  was  one. 

By  Grain  Fort,  and  just  opposite  Garrison  Point,  Sheerness, 
stands  a  lonely  tower  in  the  water.     It  is  similar  to  the 


THE   SEVEN   ISLANDS  OF  KENT 


173 


PAINTING   A    CRUISER'S    FUNNEL. 


Martello    towers    of     the 

south    coast.      From  this 

point    was    built    a    pier 

during    the    war,    and    a 

boom  defence  to  close  the 

Medway. 

On  the  whole  the  Island 

of  Grain  is  not  an  exciting 

place   in  which   to  dwell, 

though     it     enjoys     wide 

views  of  sea  and  sky  and 

a  river-bank  silhouette  of 

warships,  lying  at  anchor. 

There  is  an  astonishing  amount  of  mud  on  the  sea-reach  side, 

where  the  island  faces  Southend.     I  remember  anchoring  there 

once  in  the  Penguin,  having  failed  to  make  Sheerness.     The 

tide  was  ebbing  and  I  can  still  remember  an  idiotic  attempt 

to  get  various  stores  on 
board  from  the  island. 
In  another  tide  we  could 
have  got  them  at  Sheer- 
ness, but  it  is  amazing 
what  hideous  discomfort 
human  beings  will  endure 
"~  if  only  they  can  persuade 
themselves  that  they  are 
doing  it  for  pleasure. 
From  the  entrance  to 


174 


UNKNOWN   KENT 


■■L^f&^M^ 


**•!. 


THE   TOWER  AT   GRAIN. 


the  Medway  at  Grain  barges  going  Margate  way  can  take 
what  is  known  as  the  "  overland  "  route  along  the  shores 
of  Sheppey.  It  is  a  pleasant  run  with  a  shallow-draft  vessel, 
under  steep  shores  of  red  clay,  tumbling  in  picturesque 
ruggedness  into  the  sea.  At  Warden  Point  there  stood, 
within  living  memory,  the  ruins  of  a  church,  but  it  has  long 
since  disappeared.  I  remember  a  gruesome  story  told  me 
by  the  skipper  of  a  barge,  that  his  father  remembered  seeing 
skeletons  stalking  out  from  the  crumbling  cliff  which  was 
part  of  the  churchyard. 

The  name  Sheppey  means  the  island  of  sheep.  Lambarde 
wrote  of  this  region  in  the  sixteenth  century  as  follows : — 
"  It  shoulde  seeme,  by  the  dedication  of  the  name,  that  this 
Islande  was  long  since  greatly  esteemed  either  for  the  number 


THE  SEVEN   ISLANDS  OF   KENT 


175 


of  Sheepe,  or  for  the  fineness  of  the  fleece,  although 
aunsient  foreign  writers  ascribe  not  much  to  any  part  of 
all  England — and  much  less  to  this  place — either  for  the 
one  respect  or  the  other.  But  whether  the  Sheepe  of  this 
Realme  were  in  prize  before  the  coming  of  the  Saxons  or 
no,  they  be  now  (God  be  thanked  therefore)  worthy  of  great 
estimation,  both  for  the  exceeding  fineness  of  the  fleeshe  and 
fleese  (which  passeth  all  other  in  Europe  at  this  daye,  and  is 


•',vv       s 


RECULVERS   AND    MARGATE    HOOK. 


176  UNKNOWN   KENT 

to  bee  compared  withe  the  aunsient  delicate  wool  of  Tarentum, 
or  the  Golden  Fleese  of  Colchos  itself)  and  for  the  abundant 
store  of  flockes  so  increasing  everywhere,  that  not  only  this 
little  Isle,  but  the  whole  Realme  also,  might  be  called 
Sheepey." 

Norden,  in  1593,  alludes  to  an  industry  which  has  now  died 
out,  namely  the  making  of  Cheese  from  ewes  milk.  "  Neere 
untoe  the  Thames,"  he  writes,  "  there  are  certaine  Islandes 
converted  to  the  feeding  of  ewes,  which  men  milke  and 
thereof  make  cheese,  and  of  the  curdes  and  the  wheye  make 
butter/ '  Camden  also  says,  "  This  Isle  of  Sheepe,  whereof  it 
feedeth  mightie  great  flockes,  was  called  by  our  auncestours 
Shepey.,> 

One  side  of  Sheppey,  the  side  bordering  the  sea,  is  hilly 
but  falls  away  to  the  south  and  towards  the  Swale  is  marsh- 
land. This  flat  land  is  relieved  at  intervals  with  mounds. 
The  traditional  view  of  the  origin  of  these  is  that  they  are  the 
burial  places  of  Danes  slaughtered  by  thousands  in  the  great 
fights  which  the  island  saw.  If  so,  it  is  strange  that  these 
battles  should  have  occurred  with  extraordinary  regularity  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  ditches  constructed  long  since  for  the 
draining  of  the  marshes.  Also  it  seems  sufficient  Danes 
must  have  been  slain  to  account  for  half  the  population 
of  England  at  the  time  these  sanguinary  contests  took 
place. 

It  seems  more  probable  that  the  earth  from  these  dykes 
accounts  for  the  hillocks.  There  is  to  be  found  growing  in 
the  marshes  of  the  Swale,  and  said  (on  what  authority  I  do 


THE   SEVEN   ISLANDS  OF    KENT 


177 


not  know)  to  grow  nowhere  else,  a  low-growing  plant  with  a 
dull  red  bloom  known  as  Dane's  Blood. 

Almost  at  the  extreme  eastern  end  of  the  island,  at  Leys- 
down,  stands  an  old  house,  now  called  the  Mussel  Manor.  It 
is  a  historical  place  in  two  ways.  In  an  ancient  map,  a  portion 
of  which  I  have  copied,  the  place  is  marked  as  Mosehold  and 


^\ 


THE   MUSSEL   MANOR,    LEYSDOWN. 


it  stood  on  a  creek  which  divided  it  from  a  marshy  island, 
Schotton. 

This  island  has  long  since  become  part  of  Sheppey  and 
the  house  now  looks  over  a  sea  of  grass. 

In  1907  it  became  historical  in  another  way.  The  Hon. 
Charles  Rolls,  Mr.  Moore-Brabazon,  Mr.  Frank  McLean, 
Mr.  Ogilvy,  and  others,  and  the  brothers  Short,  began  making 
more  English  history.     The  brothers,  Wright,  too,  the  great 

N 


178 


UNKNOWN   KENT 


'■  :     » 

b    1 

v"*\ 

£  .M~i 

•  i!T" 

^kwv. 

§ 

i  T 

BHrl    •.  :  •    J-  • 

«.•      ' 

:  .E2    S  : 

H{   ?•--! 

«*•". 

■  sScSCL  •  -  •  • 

?    [V 

/  l  '* 

S.-Z1- 

^&j& 

fe 

rW 

SI 

f 

"iiSfi 

pioneers  from  America,  visited  the  community.     Eastchurch 
evolved  the  sea-plane,  and  finally  the  R.N.A.S. 

It  is  so  short  a  time  ago  that  it  seems  unbelievable.     I  can 
remember  flights  of  30  yards  while  men  lay  down  to  see  that 

the  machine  did  leave  the  ground. 
Then  there  were  joyous  celebrations  of 
the  event  in  the  old  house.  I  remember 
the  four  first  heroes,  Samson,  Longmore, 
Gregory  (R.N.),  and  Gerrard  (Marine) 
being  taught  to  fly  by  Mr.  McLean. 
I  remember  sketching  Samson  flying  off 
the  Africa  with  air  bags  tied  on  to  his 
skids  and  then  the  first  sea-plane.  Short 
brothers,  with  indomitable  faith,  but  by 
dim  oil  lights  held  aloft  by  successive 
J- — -l.  mill  slaves   of    the   lamp,    often   supervised 

their  men  all  night  as  they  worked  to 
prepare  a  machine  for  flight  in  the 
morning. 

It  is  easy  now  to  realize  the  military 
importance  of  mastery  of  the  air.  We 
have  been  taught  that  thoroughly, 
painfully,  during  years  of  stress.  Yet 
these  men  had  nothing  but  imagination 
to  look  to,  for  war  science.  There  was 
no  tradition,  and  the  future  was  an 
unopened  book. 

PLATES  FOR  SHIPBUILDING,  .  .    .  T    .  - 

in  Chatham  dockyard.  Recently,  on  a  visit   to   Leysdown, 


•  :mi 


S&Si,?,''- 


»      »     »   t 


% 


.  »  • 


•    •    »  "    t  » 

*  •   •      »    » 

•  •••    •»,  »   » 


IN  GILLINGHAM  REACH 


THE  SEVEN   ISLANDS   OF   KENT 


179 


I  came  upon  a  few 
stones  by  a  dyke.  I 
examined  them  and 
found  traces  by  them 
of  a  cement  floor  and 
the  relic  of  what  had 
once  been  the  bed  of 
an  engine.  It  was  no 
less  a  piece  of  history 
than  the  old  founda- 
tions of  Short  brothers' 
machines. 


OLD  MAP  SHOWING  LEYSDOWX. 


first    factory  of   heavier-than-air 


One  day,  with  guide  book  in  hand  (I  had  almost  written 
Baedekar)  people  will  come  from  the  east  and  from  the 
west  and  gaze  upon  this  ground,  for  out  of  it  there  grew 
a  great  service  and  a  great  tradition.  Although  the  Royal 
Naval  Air  Service  has  long  ago  been  merged  in  the  Royal 
Air  Force,  no  one  will  forget  the  grit  and  go  of  those  early 
days. 

It  sounds  unbelievable  but  it  is  true,  that  the  great  branch 
of  the  Navy  known  as  the  R.N.A.S.  was  practically  the 
creation  of  Mr.  Frank  McLean,  who,  a  civilian,  taught  the 
Navy  to  fly  on  his  machines  and  at  his  own  expense,  on 
ground  that  he  had  bought.  It  is  truer  to  say  that  the  Navy 
was  allowed  to  fly,  for  it  needed  a  lot  of  push  at  the  Admiralty. 
There  were,  however,  senior  officers  with  imagination  and  by 
means  of  these  the  great  thing  was  done.  And  when  the 
war  was  over,  and  the  enormous  use  of  flying  demonstrated 


i8o 


UNKNOWN   KENT 


even  to  the  dullest  intelligence,  did  the  advisors  of  the  King 
make  amends  and  see  that  honour  was  given  where  it  was 
most  due  ? 

The  answer  is  in  the  negative. 


&OT*k  - 


OLD    BOATS. 
A   DOCKYARD   SCENE. 


XIII 
CANTERBURY  AND  THE  SEA 


:«s?n%     '•'.  •  ■■■• 


DOVER. 


/^^> 


Tortus  l£WAN»s 

CANTERBURY   AND    THE   ROMAN    PORTS. 


**>«    RtToPiS 


CANTERBURY  AND  THE  SEA 

THE  importance  of  Canterbury  as  the  centre  of  radiating 
roads  to  various  posts  cannot  be  too  clearly  emphasized. 
It  was  this  position,  within  a  day's  march  of  any  one  of  five 
ports  north,  east  and  south,  that  made  it  a  sort  of  clearing 
house  for  sea-borne  commerce.  It  was  the  favourable  situa- 
tion of  Canterbury  with  regard  to  communications,  especially 
with  the  Continent,  that  made  it  particularly  suitable  as  the 
headquarters  of  the  Church  in  South  England.  The  life 
and  progress  of  the  Church  was,  to  a  large  extent  in  early 
days,  fostered  by  the  position  of  the  city,  and  the  greatness 
of  Canterbury  was  thrust  upon  it,  by  the  vagaries  of  our  much 
abused  climate. 

Sudden  changes  in  wind  and  weather  made  it  necessary 


184  UNKNOWN   KENT 

for  alternative  sheltered  harbours  to  be  available.  In  a 
north-easter  it  might  be  very  difficult  for  a  ship  to  make  the 
northern  Kentish  ports,  or  gain  the  sheltered  waters  of  the 
Wantsum  inside  Thanet;  but  the  harbours  east  of  Dover 
would  be  easy.  If  the  wind  chopped  round  to  south-west, 
however,  and  this  became  a  lee  shore  a  ship  might  have  to 
run  round  to  the  north  and  make  for  a  weather  shore.  Thus  a 
merchant  would  never  know  where  his  cargo  would  be  landed 
and  the  line  of  least  resistance  was  to  sit  snugly  at  Canter- 
bury, whereto  all  roads  led,  and  wait  for  his  goods.  Thus 
Canterbury  would  grow  in  importance  as  trade  from  the 
Continent  increased. 

Even  in  Roman  times  this  key  situation  of  Canterbury 
with  regard  to  ports  was  all  important.  Five  Roman  roads 
served  the  five  harbours,  Regulbium,  the  estuary  of  the 
Wantsum  inside  the  Isle  of  Thanet,  Portus  Ritupis  (Rich- 
borough),  Portus  Dubris  (Dover),  and  Portus  Lemanus 
(Lympne).  Of  these  five  roads  I  will  give  a  brief  account, 
as  they  have  a  great  bearing  on  our  history;  the  Saxons 
developed  them  and  the  Cinque  Ports,  with  their  members, 
in  later  days  owed  their  land  intercommunication  principally 
to  their  long-established  ways. 

i.  Stone  Street,  leading  almost  due  north  from  Lympne 
to  Canterbury,  is  a  classic  example  of  a  Roman  road.  It  is 
quite  straight,  except  when  it  has  to  negotiate  a  very  steep 
ascent.  Here  it  takes  a  curved  path,  but  soon  becomes 
straight  again  all  the  way  to  Canterbury.  Camden  describes 
this  road  as  paved  with  stones. 


CANTERBURY  AND  THE  SEA  185 

2.  Dover  to  Canterbury.  This  is  the  beginning  of  Watling 
Street.  It  runs  very  mucli  on  the  line  of  the  modern  road. 
Near  Lydden  a  trace  of  the  Roman  road  lies  to  the  west  side 
of  the  present  road.  On  Barham  Down  are  the  remains 
of  a  Roman  camp.  From  Lydden  Hill  to  Canterbury,  the 
Roman  road  ran  absolutely  straight  for  nine  miles. 

3.  Richborough  to  Canterbury.  Portus  Ritupis  was  in 
Roman  times  an  island  in  the  channel  between  Thanet  and 
the  mainland — connected  no  doubt  by  a  tidal  causeway  as 
was  Thanet  by  the  continuation  of  Sarre  Wall.  "  It  is 
curious/ '  writes  Codrington,  "  that  there  are  few  traces  of 
the  Roman  road  from  Portus  Ritupis,  the  usual  port  of  entry 
into  Britain,  to  Canterbury." 

4.  Thanet  to  Canterbury.  This  road  became  a  causeway 
between  Thanet  and  Sarre  Wall  to  allow  ships  to  pass  over 
at  high  water.     It  ran  to  a  point  near  Sturry. 

5.  Reculver  to  Canterbury.  The  present  road  to  Sturry 
is  more  or  less  its  course.  Up  Street  is  the  only  trace  left, 
by  name,  on  the  map.  This  road  and  the  one  from  Thanet 
unite  and  the  road  crosses  the  Stour  at  Fordwich  proceeding 
to  Canterbury. 

This  old-time  connection  of  Canterbury  with  the  sea  is 
not  of  any  vital  importance  to-day.  Except  for  the  fact  that 
it  happens  to  be  on  the  line  between  Dover  and  London,  no 
one  now  thinks  of  this  old  haunt  of  merchants  and  sea  captains 
as  having  any  nautical  flavour  at  all.  Richborough,  with  its 
wonderful  train  ferry  during  the  war,  revived  once  again  the 


186  UNKNOWN   KENT 

old  sea  road  and  it  is  interesting  to  remember  that  one  of  the 
first  railways  in  England  connected  Canterbury  with  the  sea, 
at  Whitstable  harbour.  This  was  before  the  days  of  loco- 
motives, when  trucks  were  hauled  by  winding  engines  along 
straight  sections  of  line. 

Speaking  of  Whitstable  and  its  connection  with  the  sea, 
do  you  know  the  old  legend  of  its  origin  ?  It  was  from  Canter- 
bury, this  time-honoured  extravaganza  tells  us,  Whitstable 
was  formed  and  by  no  less  an  agent  than  the  Devil  himself. 

I  cannot  give  chapter  and  verse,  but  it  is  taken  from  a 
magazine  cutting  of  seventy  years  ago. 

how  w'hitstable  was  formed  out  of  pieces 
of  Canterbury 

"  Canterbury,  as  all  the  world  of  Kent  knows,  is  '  no 
mean  city  '  now  ;  but  six  centuries  ago,  when  it  was  the 
resort  of  thousands  of  pilgrims,  it  was  so  glorious  that  it 
excited  the  wrath  of  the  foul  fiend :  and  its  inhabitants,  being 
as  bad  as  Jerome  describes  the  people  of  Jerusalem  to  have 
been  when  that  city,  too,  was  famous  for  pilgrimages,  he  sought 
and  obtained  permission  to  cast  it  into  the  sea  if  the  service 
of  prayer  and  praise  usually  performed  by  night  and  by  day 
at  the  tomb  of  St.  Thomas  the  Martyr  should  be  once  sus- 
pended. Long  and  eagerly  did  Satan  watch  ;  but  though 
the  people  grew  worse  daily,  the  religious  were  faithful  to 
their  duties,  and  he  almost  gave  up  the  hope  of  submerging 
the  proud  city. 

"  At  length,  however,  his   time  came.    A  great  festival 


ssa 


***** 


^r,^;/^^ 


ST.  MARGARET  S  BAY 


CANTERBURY  AND  THE  SEA  187 

had  been  held  at  which  the  chaplains  at  the  saint's  tomb  had, 
of  course,  borne  a  prominent  part,  and  when  night  came, 
utterly  exhausted,  they  slept — all,  and  every  one. 

"  The  glory  of  Canterbury  was  now  gone  for  ever.  Down 
pounced  the  fiend  and  endeavoured  to  grasp  the  city  in  his 
arms  ;  but  though  provided  with  claws  proverbially  long  he 
was  unable  to  embrace  one  half,  so  vast  was  its  size.  A 
portion,  however,  he  seized,  and  having  with  a  few  strokes 
of  his  wings  reached  the  open  sea  he  cast  in  his  evil  burden  ; 
thrice  all  but  annihilated,  when  the  prayers  of  the  neglected 
St.  Thomas  prevailed,  and  an  angelic  vision  was  sent  to  Brother 
Hubert  the  Sacristan,  which  roused  and  directed  him  what  to 
do.  He  rushed  into  the  church,  and  seizing  the  bell  rope,  he 
pulled  vigorously.  The  great  bell,  Harry,  which  gives  its 
name  to  the  centre  tower  of  the  minster,  ordinarily  required 
the  exertions  of  ten  men  to  set  it  in  motion,  but  it  now  yielded 
to  the  touch  of  one,  and  a  loud  boom  from  its  consecrated 
metal  scared  the  fiend  just  as  he  reached  the  verge  of  the  sea  ; 
in  despair  he  dropped  his  prey  and  fled,  and  Canterbury  has 
never  since  excited  his  envy  by  its  splendour. 

"  There  was  a  remarkable  difference  in  the  fate  of  the 
different  parts  of  Satan's  last  armful  from  which  a  great 
moral  lesson  was  justly  drawn  by  my  informant.  Those 
very  few  houses  in  which  more  good  than  bad  were  found  were 
preserved  from  destruction  by  falling  on  the  hill-side,  and 
they  thus  gave  rise  to  the  thriving  port  of  Whitstable  ;  while 
the  great  majority  dropped  into  the  sea  a  mile  off;  but 
antiquaries,  ignorant  of  the  facts  of  the  case,  have  mistaken 


188  UNKNOWN   KENT 

them  for  the  ruins  of  Roman  edifices  submerged  by  the 
encroaching  ocean/' 

In  order  to  verify  by  analogy  my  arguments  for  the  lost 
Roman  road  from  Lympne  to  Sutton  Valence  and  Maid- 
stone, I  followed  the  Roman  roads  from  Richborough  to 
Dover  and  from  Dover  to  Lympne,  and  learnt  much  about 
the  habits  of  these  lateral  ways  that  came  in  useful.  It  is 
clear  that  Richborough,  now  known  as  rusty  Richborough,  on 
account  of  mountains  of  scrapped  lorries  and  machinery  from 
France,  was  in  Roman  times  an  island  and  the  road  from  the 
higher  ground  to  the  south  must  have  been  in  the  nature  of 
a  causeway,  covered  by  the  tide,  as  at  Sarre  in  Thanet. 

The  Roman  road  to  Dover,  however,  is  not  so  picturesque 
a  route  as  the  coast  road,  along  the  headlands.  This  way, 
through  breezy  Deal  and  comfortably  circumstanced  Walmer, 
approaches  white  walls  at  Kingsdown  and  a  pleasant  path, 
looking  down  on  the  sea,  with  glimpses  of  France  and  of  the 
shipping  going  up  or  down  Channel,  skirts  the  edge  of  the 
headlands.  The  monument  to  the  Dover  Patrol  stands 
boldly  out  on  the  highest  point  and  the  nearest  to  France, 
and  then  comes  St.  Margaret's  Bay,  charmingly  situated  and 
utterly  unexpected.  I  have  sketched  here  the  first  glimpse 
of  it,  as  the  traveller  finds  it  at  his  feet  with  the  South  Foreland, 
with  its  squat  lighthouse,  beyond  it. 

In  Roman  times,  Dover  harbour  was  situated  between  the 
high  ground  on  each  side,  where  most  of  the  town  now  stands. 
It  is  thought  that  the  Pharos,  which  still  stands  by  the  castle, 
was  matched  by  a  similar  tower  on  the  other  heights,  now 


*tmii»n^rti 


•  >        •      J    >        >  »    1 

'     '  >  >        >  > 


.  »  •     >     > 


»    »     > 

J      )    J 


A  DOVER  FORESHORE 


.  I       a      <      *t       <  « 

It  t       «  i      •"     ( 

•         C  fl      I  •  <■    < 


»        ,  C.       •    •  I  •  « 

<  <   I      i    I 
•    I     i.       I     I     < 


CANTERBURY  AND   THE  SEA  189 

known  as  Shakespeare's  Cliff.  Thus  at  night,  when  both  were 
showing  beacon  lights,  the  entrance  to  Dover  was  far  descried 
by  the  galleys  coming  across  from  Gaul. 

It  is  probable  that  a  great  deal  of  these  western  heights 
has  crumbled  away.  The  slope  of  the  ground  suggests  that 
they  may  have  been  higher,  though  the  oft-quoted  lines  from 
King  Lear  could  not  be  descriptive  of  any  height  less  than 
several  thousand  feet,  except  in  the  vaguest  and  most  poetical 
sense : 

"...  and  yond  tall  anchoring  bark 
Diminish'd  to  her  cock  ;   her  cock,  a  buoy 
Almost  too  small  for  sight ;   the  murmuring  surge 
That  on  the  unnumber'd  idle  pebbles  chafes 
Cannot  be  heard  so  high." 

It  has  always  seemed  to  me  rather  far-fetched  calling  this 
headland  Shakespeare's  Cliff,  as  the  famous  quotation  from 
King  Lear  is  not  descriptive  of  any  actual  place.  The  scene 
is  given  as  "  Fields  near  Dover  "  and  it  is  not  anywhere  steep 
or  high  up  because  Edgar  is  trying  to  persuade  the  blind 
Gloucester  that  he  is  ascending  a  height. 

Edgar  :   You  do  climb  now  ;   look,  how  we  labour. 

Clon  :  Methinks  the  ground  is  even. 

Edgar :  Horrible  steep. 
Hark,  do  you  hear  the  sea  ? 

Clon :  No,  truly. 

The  famous  description,  supposed  to  be  of  a  view  from 
these  cliffs,  is  an  invention  of  Edgar's,  and  a  magnificent  word- 
picture  to  try  and  make  Gloucester  believe  indeed  that  he  is 
at  the  edge  of  a  tremendous  precipice. 


190 


UNKNOWN   KENT 


I  have  sketched  this  famous  headland  as  it  appears  from 
the  beach  near  the  Lord  Warden  Hotel. 

A  reader  protests  that  one  of  the  fishermen  on  the  left  is 
exactly  like  a  mouse.  As  a  matter  of  fact  it  is  a  boat  upside 
down,  on  trestles.  I  reply,  however,  by  pointing  out  the 
remarkable  resemblance,  in  any  case,  between  the  fishermen 
of  Dover  and  mice.  Shakespeare  says  so,  and  surely  he  was 
a  keen  observer  of  men.     Here  it  is,  chapter  and  verse  : 

"  The  Fishermen  that  walk  upon  the  beach 

m  Appear  like  mice." 

King  Leat,  Act  IV.  Scene  VI. 


,.  ft  ' 


'-j 


KINGSDOWN. 


XIV 
WIND  AND  WATER 


*J<W->ftrtt 


DELCE  MILL, 

ROCHESTER. 


WIND  AND  WATER 

WERE  it  not  that  the  term  huffling  was  in  vogue  before 
Lewis  Carroll  invented  the  portmanteau  word,  we 
might  have  explained  its  origin  by  saying  that  it  was  meant  to 
denote  a  combination  of  hurrying  and  scuffling.  It  is  certainty 
an  expressive  word.  It  is  a  still  more  exciting  occupation. 
The  manoeuvring  of  a  sailing  barge,  lowering  her  mast  as  she 
negotiates  the  bridge,  and  then  getting  all  her  tackle  up  again, 
if  possible,  without  having  to  anchor — this  is  the  work  of  a 
huffier,  or  bridge-pilot.  In  the  London  river  a  pilot  must  be 
licensed,  but  in  the  Swale  and  Medway,  at  King's  Ferry  and 
Rochester,  it  is  a  case  of  the  survival  of  the  fittest.  Any  of 
us  could  take  a  boat  and  cadge  for  a  job,  but  I  don't  think 

o 


194  UNKNOWN   KENT 

we  should  be  at  it  long.  It  is  quite  easy  to  get  killed  or  to 
lose  a  mast  by  any  of  a  hundred  and  one  errors  of  judgment. 
For  a  barge  to  engage  a  huffier  is  practically  compulsory, 
because  the  insurance  companies  would  repudiate  a  claim 
for  accident  made  by  a  skipper  who  had  taken  the  bridge 
without  assistance. 

The  huffier  waits  in  his  boat  about  half  a  mile  from  the 
bridge.  He  boards  his  barge — you  can  always  tell  a  barge 
with  a  huffier  on  board  by  the  two  boats  in  tow — takes  charge, 
for  he  is  now  responsible,  and,  with  the  skipper  and  mate 
assisting,  gets  the  tackle  ready  for  lowering  away.  With  a 
following  wind  it  is  simple  to  lower  and  get  up  tackle  again  with- 
out risk  of  getting  stuck  or  having  to  anchor,  but  the  niceties 
of  huffling  are  to  be  seen  when  the  barge  is  tacking ;  the  wind 
blowing  from  the  direction  of  the  bridge  she  is  approaching. 
A  tack  to  the  side  of  the  river,  then  she  goes  about  and  makes 
a  short  tack  to  the  central  arch.  Then,  when  perilously  near 
the  bridge,  she  lowers  away,  dives  into  the  teeth  of  the  wind, 
and  passes  under  the  arch.  As  soon  as  she  is  through,  her 
helm  is  put  over  to  keep  her  at  an  angle  to  catch  the  wind 
again,  and  all  hands  strenuously  work  at  the  winch,  her  heavy 
canvas  flapping  noisily  and  everything,  apparently,  at  sixes 
and  sevens.  With  luck  she  will  have  her  mast  sufficiently 
raised  to  go  about  before  reaching  the  shallows  of  the  bank, 
and  then  get  off  in  proper  trim.  Sometimes  her  foresail  is 
gathered  up  on  the  stay  before  lowering.  Sometimes, 
however,  when  the  wind  is  light  she  will  duck  her  canvas  with 
foresail  still  spread  to  give  her  the  maximum  sail  area. 


WIND  AND   WATER 


195 


THE   MEDWAY   FROM    ROCHESTER  STATION. 


I  have  known  a  barge 
dismasted  owing  to  a  gust 
of  wind  filling  her  sail  at 
the  last  moment  of  lower- 
ing, so  that  her  mast 
would  not  budge.  In 
bad  weather  it  is  often  a 
dangerous  game,  and  men 
have  been  killed  through 
tackle  breaking.    On  the 

whole,  however,  it  is  amazing  how  few  accidents  happen. 
At  times,  in  windy  weather,  you  can  see  half  a  dozen 
barges  flopping  about  the  river  like  wounded  birds,  and  at 
night  there  seems  to  the  onlooker  on  shore  to  be  a  scene  of 
indescribable  confusion,  yet  they  will  sort  themselves  out  in 
a  few  minutes  and  proceed  on  their  journey  as  if  bridges 
were  things  that  had  never  entered  into  their  calculations — 
thanks  to  the  huffier. 

This  exciting  manoeuvre  of  getting  down  tackle  and  up 
again,  if  possible  without  dropping  anchor,  can  be  witnessed 
in  a  lesser  degree  at  King's  Ferry  bridge,  near  Queenborough, 
but  the  strong  tides  of  the  Medway  give  an  extra  zest  to  the 
huffler's  art  in  Rochester, 

Barges  with  their  picturesque  lines  and  pleasing  colouring 
seem  to  show  no  signs  of  being  displaced  by  modern  progress. 
The  sailing  ship  may  become  a  thing  of  the  past,  but  the 
sailing  barge,  on  account  of  its  cheapness,  will  stay.  It  is 
amazing  where  they  can  go,  handled  by  only  two  men,  and 


196  UNKNOWN  KENT 

sometimes  by  a  man  and  a  boy.  In  Holland,  in  Germany,  in 
Belgium,  and  in  France  the  traveller  will  see  the  familiar  red 
sails  of  Thames  and  Medway  barges.  In  old  pictures  of  a 
hundred  years  ago  the  English  sailing  barge  seemed  to  be 
almost  identical  with  her  successor  of  to-day  except  for  the 
square  sail,  which  was  a  feature  of  those  times.  It  is  probably 
the  difficulty  of  handling  this  auxiliary  that  has  led  to  its 
abandonment. 

Probably  in  those  days,  when  labour  was  cheaper,  more 
hands  were  carried.  Two  men  can  negotiate  almost  any 
weather  with  a  spritsail  barge,  because  the  mainsail  is  brailed 
as  it  stands,  and  the  foresail  and  topsail  come  down  with  a 
run  on  letting  go  the  halyard  and  cannot  very  well  get  into 
difficulties. 

Rochester,  too,  can  boast  of  another  unique  feature,  a 
feature  which  I  think  no  other  city  can  produce.  Amidst 
dense  streets,  and  built  in  by  a  hundred  houses,  can  be  seen 
an  old-time  windmill,  still  at  work,  a  classic  example  of  rus 
in  urbe,  defying  change  and  even  glorying  in  it.  The  jolly 
miller  laughs  at  miners  and  cares  not  twopence  for  the  present 
price  of  coal.  The  mill  is  Delce  Mill,  and  the  jolly  miller  is 
Mr.  W.  J.  Glover,  who  has  "  sailed  M  this  mill  for  the  last 
fifty  years. 

The  Rochester  mill,  however,  though  it  glories  in  its  past, 
is  quite  up  to  date,  and  is  fitted  with  the  modern  shutter  sails, 
with  slats  set  at  right  angles  to  the  sweep.  When  the  mill 
is  idle,  to  bring  it  into  action  the  slats  are  slanted  (like  those  of 
a  Venetian  blind)  according  to  the  amount  of  wind  to  be 


WIND  AND   WATER  197 

"  held."  Weights  check  the  angle  of  the  slats  and  they  work 
automatically  like  the  governor  of  an  engine,  so  that  a  sudden 
gust  will  open  them  slightly  and  let  the  wind  through.  I 
found  that  if  in  windless  weather — and  there  is  not  much  of 
this  in  the  Medway  Valley — there  was  work  that  would  not 
wait,  an  auxiliary  steam-engine  was  used  to  drive  the  mill 
using  up  half  a  ton  of  coal. 

In  spite,  however,  of  all  these  devices,  the  miller  admits 
that  it  is  impossible,  under  the  present  conditions  of  working, 
to  compete  with  mills  which  are  operated  by  means  of  steam, 
owing  to  the  lowness  of  the  horse-power  which  can  be  secured 
and  the  smallness  of  the  plant.  Mr.  Glover  is,  nevertheless, 
something  of  a  prophet.  Looking  back  into  the  past  he  can 
remember  the  time  when  no  less  than  twenty-two  windmills 
were  visible  from  this  ridge  above  Rochester.  Now  there  are 
only  two,  one  a  ruin  and  the  other  out  of  action.  Looking 
forward  into  the  future,  he  foresees  a  time  when  the  present 
difficulties  about  fuel  will,  to  some  extent,  be  overcome  by 
making  use  of  the  literally  unlimited  power  of  the  winds. 
The  wind  cannot  be  used  up.  A  hundred  windmills,  unless 
built  too  near  together,  will  have  a  hundred  times  the  power 
of  one.  If  for  want  of  room  these  had  to  be  packed  rather 
tight,  a  line  of  them  built  close  together  at  right  angles  to  the 
prevailing  wind  would  seldom  suffer  through  this  proximity 
on  account  of  the  fact  that  the  wind  would  not  often  blow 
from  the  disadvantageous  quarter. 

One  of  the  practical  difficulties  in  the  way  of  getting  many 
disused  windmills  into  working  order,  is  the  fact  that  the 


198 


UNKNOWN   KENT 


millwright's  craft  is,  in  some  counties,  almost  a  defunct  one. 
However,  the  windmill  of  the  future  will  probably  be  on 
different  lines  from  the  old-time  windmill,  and  will  be  con- 
structed of  steel.  "  Wind  towers  "  of  open  trellis  will  carry 
the  sweeps,  and  many  wheels  will  co-operate  to  drive  one 
plant.  The  system  that  is  already  in  use  in  many  country 
houses  for  generating  electric  light  will  possibly  be  used  on  a 
larger  scale. 


IN   THE    ROCHESTER   RIVER. 


XV 
THE  SILVER  DARENT 


EYNESFORD    BRIDGE. 


-  . 


HORTON   KIRBY. 


THE  SILVER  DARENT 

DO  you  know  what  it  is  to  have  in  your  imagination  a 
place  which  you  seem  to  know  quite  well,  which  you 
have  never  seen  ?  For  years  I  used  to  romance  about  a  little 
bit  of  valley  in  the  Vosges.  A  glimpse  of  it  could  be  obtained 
from  the  main  line  of  the  Ostend-Basle  express.  Every  time 
I  proceeded  with  sketch  books  and  paints  on  lawful  occasions 
to  Switzerland  or  Italy  or  Austria — nearly  always  travelling 
by  this  route — I  looked  out  for  my  little  valley.  I  saw  it 
by  moonlight,  by  grey  light  and  sunlight,  but  never  had  time 
to  stop.  At  last,  one  day,  I  packed  a  bag  and  started  for  this 
valley  of  mystery,  changed  at  Strassburg  into  a  local  train 
and  found  that  my  anticipations  were  delightfully  fulfilled. 


202  UNKNOWN   KENT 

There  is  a  little  place  on  the  line  between  London  and 
Chatham,  it  is  just  beyond  Farningham  Road  station  to  the 
right,  which  for  years  exercised  somewhat  the  same  fascination 
upon  me — a  green  valley  with  wandering  streams  and  willows, 
a  church  and  a  mill  and  the  promise  of  high  lands  and  hanging 
woods  beyond.  I  have  sketched  this  glimpse  of  it  at  the  head 
of  the  chapter.  Most  people  naturally  think  it  is  Farningham 
because  of  the  station's  name,  but  it  is  HortonKirby,  Farning- 
ham being  some  two  miles  further  up  the  valley.  For  the 
same  reason  as  in  the  case  of  my  valley  in  the  Vosges  I  never 
explored  it,  because  I  was  always  hurrying  on  the  way  to 
or  from  London  and  never  had  time. 

One  day,  however,  when  this  view  looked  altogether 
delightful  in  the  early  morning  sun,  I  decided  on  an  impromptu 
tour.  I  was  bound  for  London,  but  I  decided  that  London 
should  wait.  I  imagined  it  might  bear  up  if  I  didn't  arrive 
till  the  next  day.  I  therefore  sacrificed  my  ticket  to  Victoria. 
As  I  am  a  Scotsman  as  well  as  a  Man  of  Kent  this  shows  how 
excited  I  must  have  been. 

I  found  the  valley  of  the  Darent  held  the  delights  that  I 
had  expected.  As  it  narrows  betwreen  steep-wooded  hills 
there  are  a  hundred  harmonies  in  green  and  silver.  Horton 
Kirby  church,  in  spite  of  an  ugly  tower,  is  a  surprise  within — 
old  and  built  of  a  white  stone  not  unlike  marble.  The  old 
Elizabethan  manor,  Franks,  is  a  delight  to  the  eye,  reflecting 
itself  in  the  quiet  waters  of  the  stream.  This  place  was 
somewhat  marred  by  modern  alterations  and  incongruous 
oriental  additions,  but  Lord  Bathurst  acquired  this  home  of 


*».(,. 


I 


FRANKS. 


204  UNKNOWN  KENT 

his  ancestors  when  it  was  in  the  market  some  time  ago — it  had 
been  unfortunately  sold  out  of  the  family — and  restored  it 
to  its  original  style. 

I  found  that  the  neighbourhood  of  Eynesford  boasted 
two  castles  and  a  quaint  bridge  and  then,  pursuing  my  way 
up  stream  as  the  valley  sides  steepened  towards  Knockholt 
and  Sevenoaks,  discovered  a  mill.  It  is  an  old-time  affair.  I 
came  upon  it  down  a  steep  road,  as  sketched  opposite,  and 
indeed  in  the  evening  light  it  might  have  been  a  little  bit  of 
the  Black  Forest.  It  is  used  for  the  manufacture  of  hand- 
made paper. 

Talking  of  paper,  however,  reminds  me  that  I  have  come 
to  the  end  of  my  space,  so  I  will  end  my  story  of  Kent  here,  to 
the  pleasant  noise  of  waters  by  Shoreham  Mill. 

It  is  a  fragmentary  story  and  one  with  obvious  and 
lamentable  gaps,  but  I  hope  the  reader  will  look  upon  these 
chapters  as  overtures  to  his  own  further  exploration.  Here 
and  there  I  have  suggested  a  road  that  will  yield  great  delight 
to  the  traveller  if  he  will  push  on,  although  I  myself  have  not 
had  time  to  go  far  upon  it.  Of  all  the  counties  of  England,  I 
think  Kent,  perhaps,  holds  the  greatest  variety  of  subject  for 
the  painter. 

Contrast  the  rolling  chalk  downs  of  Dover  and  long  level 
marshlands  of  the  Thames.  Compare  the  high  woods  of 
Knockholt  with  the  wind-blown  shores  of  Sheppey.  Think  of 
the  breezy  downs  as  seen  from  Kingsdown,  and  the  quiet 
meadows  of  the  Weald  by  Tenterden  Tower.  Call  to  mind 
nocturnes  in  blue  and  gold  among  the  magic  night  scenery  of 


SHOREHAM   MILL. 


206 


UNKNOWN   KENT 


the  land  of  cement  and  of  the  Medway,  and  then  remember 
haunts  of  ancient  peace  nestling  silently  beneath  unfrequented 
hills,  or  grim  Chatham  with  its  walls  of  steel,  and  tell  me  if 
there  is  any  other  county  with  such  a  goodly  range  of  subject. 

"  Not  these  alone,  but  every  landscape  fair 
As  fit  for  every  mood  of  mind 
Or  gay,  or  grave,  or  sweet,  or  stern,  was  there 
Not  less  than  truth  designed." 


% 


A  MILL  ON   THE  PARENT. 


INDEX 


Action,  172 

Africa,  H.M.S.,  178 

Allington,  in,  112 

All  Saints,  Maidstone,  112 

Anderida,  Forest  of,  38 

A.P.C.M.,  88 

Appledore,  50,  51,  62,  76 

Armada,  41 

Arnolfo,  89 

Ashurst,  35 

Aspdin,  88 

Aylesford,  11,  36,  95,  96,  109,  no,  in 

Baker,  Christopher,  39 
Barham  Downs,  185 
Banning,  no 
Bathurst,  Lord,  202 
Belloc,  Hilaire,  138,  140 
Beult,  118,  119 
Black  Sea,  83 
Bluebell  Hill,  103 
Bockington,  28 
Borstal,  3,  6,  7,  8,  9,  10 
Boughton,  24 
Boulogne,  64 
Boxley,  19,  103 
Branbridges,  125 
Brent,  141 

Bridgewood,  Fort,  10 
Burham,  18,  102 
Burntwick,  166,  172 

Camden,  40,  176,  184 
Canterbury,   103,   139,   145,   150,   183, 
185,  186,  187 


Chalk,  80 

Charing,  103,  140 

Chart,  138 

Chart  Corner,  142 

Chartway  Street,   136,   140,  141,   142, 

145,  150,  152 
Chatham,  7,  100 
Cinque  Ports,  184 
Cliff,  72 

Cobham,  John  de,  82 
Cock  Street,  136,  143,  152,  153 
Codrington,  141,  185 
Coldharbour,  137,  138,  140,  152 
Cooling,  70,  80,  82 
Countless  Stones,  103 
Court  at  Street,  103 
Cox,  70 

Cox  Heath,  144 
Crofts,  Ernest,  in 

Danes,  176 

Danes'  blood,  177 

Darent,  202 

Dartford,  141 

Deal,  165,  188 

Delce  Mill,  196 

Dickens,  70,  80 

Dover,  184,  185,  188,  189,  190 

Dowle  Street,  142 

Dungeness,  35,  63 

Dymchurch,  64 

Eastchurch,  178 
East  Peckham,  76 
East  Sutton,  150 


208 


INDEX 


Edgware  Road,  141 
Edward  I.,  112 
Edward  VI.,  50 
Elmley,  168 
Erith,  84,  86 
Essex,  168 
Eynsford,  204 

Fairfax,  hi 
Farleigh,  East,  no,  116 
Farningham,  202 
Flood  Street,  137,  140 
Flushing,  83 
Ford,  137,  140 
Fordwich,  185 
Foulness,  167,  168 
Franks,  202 
Friars,  Aylesford,  hi 
Friday  Street,  152 
Frindsbury,  79 

Garrison  Point,  172 

Gerrard  (Marine),  178 

Glover,  W.  J.,  196 

Grain,  Isle  of,  165,  166,  172,  173,  174 

Gravesend,  69,  79,  82,  87 

Great  Chart,  140 

Great  Culand  Farm,  18 

Great  Hermitage,  74,  75 

Greenhithe,  89 

Greenwich,  82,  83 

Gregory  (R.N.),  178 

Godwin,  Earl,  49 

Goodwin  Sands,  49,  50 

Hadlow  Castle,  125 
Hailing,  17,  100,  102 
Ham  Street,  51 
Harty,  158 
Harwich,  171 
Hay  ling  Island,  51 
Headcorn,  152 
Henry  IV.,  82 
Henry  VIII.,  47 
Hermitage,  Great,  74,  75 
Higham,  74,  76,  78 
Hind,  Lewis,  viii 
Holland,  83 


Hoo,  Hundred  of,  69,  70,  172 
Horton  Kir  by,  202 
Hospitalarii  Pontifices,  no 
Hungary,  43 
Hythe,  50,  62,  63 

Institution,  Borstal,  6, 1  o 

Jerrold,  Walter,  69 

Kentish  Islands,  166 
Kingsdown,  188 
King's  Ferry,  193,  *95 
Kingsgate  Castle,  83 
Kits  Coty  House,  105 
Knockholt,  204 

Lambard, 174 
Lamberhurst,  42 
Latimer,  Hugh,  50 
Lebanon,  44 
Leeds  Castle,  16 
Lewis  Hind,  viii 
Leysdown,  177,  178 
Linton,  143,  144,  153 
Little  Chart,  137,  140 
Liverton  Street,  137,  140 
London,  75,  80,  82,  87,  141,  168,  172 
Loose,  19 
Lower  Bell,  105 

Lympne,  52,  64,  65,  137,  139,  150, 
162,  184,  188 

Maidstone,  15,  16,  17,  19,  29,  35,  36, 
82,  96,  no,  in,  112,  114,  125,  133, 
139,  188 

Mailing,  36 

Margate,  166,  174 

Martello  Towers,  63,  173 

Mary,  Queen,  82,  112 

McLean,  Frank,  177,  178,  179 

Mecca,  87 

Medway,  3,  6,  69,  72»  7^  78»  88>  9$,  98, 
99,  112,  114,  118,  119,  125,  126,  127, 
144,  153,  154,  166,  173,  174,  193, 
195,  196 

Mereworth,  160 

Midbrook,  141 

Moore-Brabazon,  177 


INDEX 


209 


Moore,  General,  64 
More,  Sir  Thomas,  47,  48 
Mouse  Lightship,  167 
Mussel  Manor,  Leysdown,  177 

Nashenden,  7 

Napoleon,  63,  65 

Nettlested,  119,  153,  154,  160 

Newhall,  64 

New  Hythe,  88,  97,  103 

New  Street,  142 

North  Downs,  35 

North  Street,  137,  140 

Norden,  176 

Nuneaton,  38 

Odo,  Bishop  of  Bayeux,  112 
Ogilvy,  177 
Oldbury  Camp,  161 
Oldcastle,  Sir  John,  82 
Old  Chequers  Inn,  127,  130 
Oxford  Street,  177 
Oxney,  Isle  of,  51,  166,  171 

Parker,  Archbishop,  39 

Peckham,  East,  76 

Peckham,  West,  161 

Pegwell  Bay,  166 

Penshurst,  130 

Pilgrims'  Way,  35,  101,  154 

Pitt,  63,  64,  66 

Plaxtol,  137,  144,  145,  160,  161 

Play  den,  52 

Portus  Dubris,  184 

Portus  Lemanus,  184 

Portus  Ritupis,  184,  185 

Port  Victoria,  172 

Quarry  Wood,  144,  153,  154,  159 
Queenborough  Castle,  16,  195 

Rats  Castle,  161 
Reculvers,  166,  185 
Red  Hills,  35,  36,  37 
Regulbium,  184 
Rhine,  83 
Richard  II.,  82 


Richborough,  185,  186 

Rochester,  6,  7,  10,  ir,  72,  74,  80,  95, 

99.  I45»  193.  195.  196 
Rolls,  Hon.  Charles,  177 
Rolvenden,  51 
Roman,  137,  138,  139,  140,  143.  144, 

145,  149,  151,  153,  160,  184,  188 
Romans,  61,  64,  142 
Romney  Marsh,  50,  61,  63,  64 
R.N.A.S.,  178,  179 
Rooting  Street,  137,  140,  142 
Rosamond's  Bower,  162 
Rother,  50,  51,  52,  54,  62,  166 
Royal  Military  Canal,  50,  63 
Rye,  50.  51.  52,  62,  63 

Sackville,  Sir  R„  39 
Samson,  Commander,  178 
Sandwich,  48,  50,  56,  166 
Sarre,  167,  185,  188 
Schotton,  177 
Sevenoaks,  136,  137,  204 
Shakespeare's  Cliff,  189 
Sheerness,  172 
Sheffield,  38 

Sheppey,  51,  166,  174,  177 
Shivering  Sand,  169 
Shooter's  Hill,  141 
Shoreham,  204 
Short  Bros.,  177,  178 
Sittingbourne,  19,  20 
Small  Hythe,  51,  54 
Snodland,  96,  102,  103 
Southend,  168,  175 
South  Foreland,  188 
Spain,  King  of,  41 
Stair,  125,  126 
Stanhope,  Lord,  36 
Stephenson,  George,  88 
Stone,  51,  53 ,  62 
Stone  Horse,  74 
Stone  Street,  150,  154 
Stonebridge,  142 
Stour,  141,  142,  166,  185 
St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  42 
Straight  Mile,  78,  130 
Street,  138,  139 


210 


INDEX 


Strood,  74,  76,  78 

Sturry,  185 

Super-Cement  Co.,  90 

Sutton  Valence,  133,  140,  145,  188 

Swale,  176,  193 

Swan  Street,  140 

Syria,  44 

Tenterden,  47,  48,  49,  50,  54,  56 

Terry,  Miss  Ellen,  54 

Teston,  no,  in 

Thames,  72,  75,  90 

Thames-Medway  Canal,  78 

Thanet,  49,  62,  166,  171,  184,  185,  188 

Tonbridge,  78,  114,  119,  125,  126,  130 

Toronto,  42 

Tovil,  28,  114 

Twelve  Apostles,  129 

Twiss,  General,  64 

Twyford  Bridge,  118,  119 

Upper  Coldharbour,  140,  142 
Up  Street,  185 

Walmer,  188 
Wantsun,  166,  184 


Warden  Point,  51,  166,  174 

Warspite,  89 

Wateringbury,  114,  117,  144,  161 

Water  Street,  140,  142 

Watling  Street,  138,  139,  141,  155 

Weald,  35,  36,  38,  39,  40,  41,  47,  49, 

56,  i33»  135.  136,  138,  154 
Westenhanger,  162 
West  Indian  Dock,  84 
Westwell,  39 
Wey-Arun  Canal,  76 
Wheeler's  Street,  152 
White  Hills,  35 
Whitstable,  166,  186,  187 
William  the  Conqueror,  112 
Winchester,  10 1 
Wittersham,  53 
Wright  Bros.,  177 
Wrotham,  101 
Wyatt,  Sir  Thomas,  82,  112 

Yalding,    no,    117,    118,    119,    154, 

156 
Yantlet  Creek,  165,  172 

Zurich,  Lake,  83 


THE  END 


